Heart of the Phoenix
by smaugholmeswatson
Summary: Imagine discovering your best friend is a Phoenix shape-shifter and that there is a dangerous criminal determined to claim him as a pet. This is the situation John finds himself in when an explosive meeting with Moriarty forces Sherlock to reveal his secret. Of course the course of true love never runs smoothly, especially when Moriarty decides to throw a spanner in the works...
1. Chapter 1

The dead body is the least of our worries. Now that I can even technically call it a body since it is scattered around in so many tiny little peices. My stomach churns and I have to swallow down the bile which is trying to rise up my throat. If I throw up at this crime scene I know Lestrade will never let me live it down. As he walks past Anderson gives me a smug smile. I ignore him and concentrate on weaving my way through the crowds of policemen towards where Lestrade and Sherlock are standing beside the worst of the mess. As I get closer I am able to smell the gut wrenching stench emanating from the week old body but take a deep breath and pretend that it isn't there as I eavesdrop on Lestrade and Sherlock's conversation.

"So what are we looking at here? A shape-shifter serial killer?" Lestrade asks with a sigh, running a hand across the untidy stubble on his chin. The murder is the fifth in as many days and judging by the dark circles beneath his eyes he is obviously having to work over time in order to keep up with the sheer amount of paperwork I know accompanies a case like this. Also unlike the other officers who appear horrified by the scene before them Lestrade has hardly reacted meaning that he is either extremely tired or simply doesn't care any more.

Sherlock ignores him for a moment and continues to search the ground for any clue which might be present, something which there has been a distinct lack of at the crime scenes as though the killer is being careful not to leave any evidence behind (a fact which is rapidly becoming frustrating for all parties involved). The only evidence found at any of the scenes were the deep gashes and tears present on the bodies. Eventually Sherlock looks up and I am able to see a brief look of exhaustion and annoyance pass across his face before his expression falls back into the carefully neutral mask he usually has in place. "Of course a shape-shifter is responsible. Isn't it obvious that this body has been torn apart by something with claws? Something which most humans do not possess. By the length of the marks the shifter is either a wolf or a large cat of some description." He explains, his voice tinged with an emotion close to being patronising. He looks round when he hears me walking towards him and flashes me a very small smile, so small that only I will be aware of it because after all Sherlock has to keep up appearances. "John, do me a favour and examine the body because I am afraid that the so called experts on show here will have missed something while they were arguing over when to have a tea break." He says, looking me in the eye while raising his voice enough for Anderson to hear him from where he is currently having the forementioned cup of tea. Anderson shoots an angry look in our direction but Sherlock ignores him and goes back to intently examining the crime scene.

Lestrade rolls his eyes. "You know, you could at least try to be nice Sherlock."

Sherlock snorts quietly but doesn't say anything in response. Instead he kneels down, his long woollen coat billowing around him, and reaches out to pick something off the pavement. Lestrade goes to stand beside him and Sherlock shifts to block him from seeing whatever clue he has found. I frown at him, wondering what he is up to because Sherlock never misses an oppotunity to boast when he comes across something the police have overlooked. From where I am standing I am able to clearly see him slip something small and slim into his coat pocket. I remain silent, knowing he probably has a reason and will most likely tell me about it later. I have become used to him using me as a sounding board for ideas and theories at the most random times, usually during mealtimes or when I am about to go to bed. I shake my head to bring myself back to the present and am in time to witness Lestrade stumble back a few times as Sherlock rises without warning to his feet and stalks off in the direction of the flat. With a wave of his gloved hand he motions for me to follow him. "Come John, I have seen enough." He says.

Lestrade's expression darkens slightly. "Hey." He says, stepping forward to intercept Sherlock by grabbing hold of his arm. "You can't just leave without telling me anything. I called you here to help me solve this case and I need to know everything that you know." He swallows and closes for eyes for a moment. "Please Sherlock, I need you here." He says. Judging by his facial expression he hates actually having to ask Sherlock directly for help, especially when all his officers are about to witness their detective inspector admitting that they can't solve this case without help. He will probably get teased about it when they return to Scotland Yard.

Sherlock shakes off Lestrade's arm before he turns to face him. "While I am fully aware you need my help Lestrade I need to return to Baker Street for a prior engagment arranged several weeks ago which I can not miss. I also need time to think about what I have seen here and come to a conclusion about the case." He calmly explains as he walks away. When he reaches the police tape he ducks underneath and then holds it up so I can easily walk beneath it. He doesn't acknowledge my nod and instead strides off, pulling his long coat tightly about himself to ward off the cold. He isn't the only one to have noticed the temperature today is rapidly dropping towards freezing or that the sky is onminously grey, usually a sign of snow on the way. Not that it bothers me particularly since I am lucky enough to feel warm no matter how cold it got.

Muttering an apology to Lestrade when I pass him I hurry after Sherlock, struggling to catch up with him. He always insists on walking fast even though he knows full well I have shorter legs than him and often get left behind. When he hears me puffing behind him he slows slightly and looks back over his shoulder at me with an expression I am unable to make sense of. He almost appears worried which is obviously impossible because Sherlock always manages to have a solution for everything. I try not to show my concern but with his keen observations skills he probably already knows I have seem him momentarily lowering his guard. Certaintly when I draw level with him he looks away from me and stares off to one side so I am unable to see his face. "Sherlock, there isn't any need to be rude. Lestrade has been working hard trying to solve these murders."

Sherlock lets out a quiet snort and reaches into his pocket, pulling out what looks very much like the feather of a bird. Without saying a word he holds it out for my inspection but I am too busy staring at him in disbelief to take it. "As I said to Lestrade I need some time to think over what I saw at the crime scene before I come up with a conclusion. Even though I have a good idea who the culprit is I would like to be certain before I reveal my theories."

Sometimes Sherlock can be incredibly infuriating and I glare at him when I finally snatch the feather from his outstretched hand. "Why don't you tell him your theories now, you usually don't hold back when there is an oppotunity to boast about how clever you are compared to the rest of us." I demand, feeling anger rising within me. I know it won't do any good to lose my temper because Sherlock never pays attention but I am unable to help myself. "You could save Greg from any more late nights." Sherlock doesn't say anything and simply stares at me with his familiar blank expression. Gripping the feather tightly in my fist I thrust it under his nose so he is forced to notice it. "Oh no the great Sherlock Holmes needs to be one hundred percent certain that he is right. For goodness sake Sherlock not only are you withholding important information but you have also removed what could turn out to be key evidence from a crime scene! What the hell has gotten into you?"

Sherlock's face remains blank though I swear I see a brief flash of hurt in his eyes before he reaching out and plucks the feather from my hand, roughly shoving it back into his pocket. "Nothing has gotten into me. I am completly fine." He says, brushing a lock of hair which is hanging in front of his eyes. "Why don't you go back to the flat John? I will be back later tonight, there is something I need to check up on at the British library." He calls back over his shoulder as he vanishes around the corner.

I sigh and massage my forehead where I can feel the beginnings of a nasty headache brewing. Sherlock has been acting out of character ever since the shape-shifter murders started but everytime I have confronted him about it he has either changed the subject or ignored me. Here I have been presented with the perfect oppotunity to find out what he is up to if I am willing to follow someone who is brilliant at noticing things which other people don't. I suppose I will just have to risk that there is a certain chance he might spot me following him. My mind made up I turn the corner, meaning to watch what direction Sherlock goes in next, but I find myself confronted with an empty allyway. I frown, surely he couldn't have moved that fast could he? Cautiously I take a few steps forward, looking for a sign of where he went next but all I find is a handful of golden red feathers which are warm to the touch when I pick one up. They don't help me in my search for Sherlock's trail and, letting the feather fall, I continue along the alley. As I walk my thoughts go to the feather Sherlock took from the crime scene. From the brief glimpse I was able to get I saw that the feather was mostly black with patches of green and purple irresdescence similiar to that which you saw on a magpie as it opened its wings and flew away. A sudden though strikes me and it is so ridiculous that I almost laugh out loud. Surely Sherlock didn't think that a magpie shape-shifter was capable of carrying out such a horrific, messy murder did he? I am so absorbed in my thoughts that it is several moments before I notice the clicking of claws on pavement behind me or the low growl which accompanies the sound. I abruptly become aware when the growl grows louder; the sheer power and fierceness of it freezing me to the spot.

Cursing quietly to myself I cautiously glance over my shoulder, trying not to make any sudden moves which could alarm the creature, possibly a predator, behind me. I prefer having my limbs attached to my body. When I see the animal crouched behind me, blocking off the end of the alleyway with its bulk I feel a brief moment of overwelming panic but I quickly push it aside. If a push comes to a shove I do have the ability to protect myself but I would rather not shift in public and risk being photographed by a curious passerby. So far, no-one had any idea I was anything other than human and I planned to keep it that way. The shape-shifter standing behind me is a large Bengal tiger, its orange and black fur gleaming and its muscles rippling. I take a deep breath, forcing myself to stay calm because I can feel my inner fire trying to make itself known. In the army we had been trained how to deal with shape-shifters but it is very different when you find yourself face to face with one in a place where you believed you were safe. Even I was feeling a little wrong footed about meeting a dangerous predator face to face. For my training I can remember it is an extremerly bad idea to look a shape-shifter directly in the eye and I realise with a jolt that I have been doing exactly that. Crap. Hastily I look away from the tiger but it has already taken a single step forward, its muscles rippling beneath its orange and black fur and a fierce snarl drawing its lips back from sharp fangs.

"What do you want?" I ask, frowning over the tiger's shoulder and trying not to meet its yellow eyes.

The smile the tiger gives me is all fang and a little unsettling. "I want you John Watson to come with me, there is someone who is dying to meet you." The tiger says, its voice little more than a snarl but still unmistably human. I have a feeling, it is difficult to tell because of the fangs distorting its voice, the tiger is a male. The tiger begins to circle me and I turn with it to keep it in sight as there is no way I am turning my back. "Start walking." He snarls, swiping at my ankle with a claw tipped paw that is easily the size of my head.

I start walking, allowing myself to be herded to whatever destination the tiger has in mind. Even though I am in the middle of London there is no one around to see the shape-shifter or raise the alarm. Its ironic really that Lestrade and his team are litrally just a few streets over but if I called for help the tiger would rip my throat out before they ever rounded the corner in the alleyway. From the corner of my eye I can just about see the tiger walking beside me, watching me intently to make sure I don't make a run for it. Again I could shift and fly away but I enjoy my privacy too much to do that (I mean poor Mycroft can't go five minutes without being bothered by someone). Never the less I can't just do nothing. Slowly, knowing the risk I am taking, I reach into my pocket and pull out my phone, anggling my body so I am between it and the tiger. Then quickly and as quietly as I can I compose a text to Sherlock, telling him I am in danger and maybe in the presence of the shape-shifter who has comitted the brutal murders. Hitting send I hide my phone back in my pocket and take a look at my surroundings. My mouth falls open with surprise when I see where I am. Without my realising it the tiger has somehow managed to herd me onto Baker Street and is currently pushing me in the direction of 221 where I share a flat with Sherlock. I glance back towards the tiger for a clue as to why the person wants to meet me here but all he does is snarl loudly at me and lean forward to rest his head against my legs, pushing me up the steps so forcibly that I almost stumble. Dreading what I might find when I open the door I do it slowly, images of Sherlock's and Mrs Hudson's bloody mutilated bodies filling my mind. Instead I find only silence and emptyness and I breathe a sigh of relief. Once inside I stop, no longer afraid to go another step now that I know it is only me who the tiger will be able to hurt.

"Where is Mrs Hudson?" I ask. There is no point asking about Sherlock because he is more than capable of looking after himself.

"She's out." replies a soft, lilting voice that is oddly familiar. "I made sure of it."

The soft tone of the voice after the harsh growl of the tiger is jarring and somehow the soft voice manages to sound more threatening. I glance round, trying to find its source and see, standing in the shadow at the top of the stairs, a dark shadow which upon stepping forward forms into the figure of Moriarty. When his hair catches the light I am able to see that there are glossy irredescent streaks running through it, identical to that of the magpie feather Sherlock found at the crime scene. At least now I understand his strange behaviour and why he has been seeming so on edge these past few weeks. A smirk spreads across Moriarty's face and, turning on his heel, vanishes upstairs. With a growl the tiger indicates that I should follow. At the top of the stairs the door to 221B is open. Unable to do anything else I unwittingly walk inside. Once I am standing in the centre of the flat's small living area I turn to confront Moriarty, almost but not quite losing my balance when I stumble over a pile of books Sherlock has neglected to shelve. "What the hell do you want Moriarty?" I demand, crossing my arms and glaring at him. "Also I suppose I am right in guessing that you are the one behind the murders Sherlock and I have been investigating.

There is a sly gleam in Moriarty's eyes as he sits down in Sherlock's armchair and makes himself comfortable. I clench my fists, only just resisting the urge to drag him back out of it. "Of course I am behind them Johnny Boy. Well technically Moran here is the one who actually kills people, I just choose who his victims are going to be." He says, gesturing at the tiger who is pacing behind his chair. "Anyway I believe it is time we were getting down to business. I imagine you want to know why I summoned you." He continues, holding up a black jacket for my inspection.

'Oh god', I think, my heart skipping a beat. I have seen such jackets before during my service in the Middle East where such items were in common usage by the enemy. I grit my teeth to stop myself swearing out loud. There is no way in hell I am going to allow Moriarty to strap that thing around me! I go to take a step forward, to lash out or run but Moran rears up with a snarl, slams a huge paw against my chest and pushes me down into the chair directly behind me. He keeps his paw there for a moment before padding back over to Moriarty. I don't try to get up.

Careful Johnny Boy." Moriarty cautions. "Any sudden moves and Moran will rip your throat out." There is a definite grin on his face as he stands and makes his way over to me, Moran following close on his heels.

Unable to do anything I am forced to remain still while Moriarty wraps the bomb jacket around me and secures it tightly so there is no chance I can wriggle free from it. I watch Moriarty while he works. It is odd to think that the last time I saw him was when Sherlock and I confronted him about falsely telling the world he was Richard Brook. My throat tightens; a few hours after that Sherlock leaped off the roof of St Bart's hospital. The memory still occasionally gives me nightmares. A shudder runs down my spine when Moriarty lightly strokes his fingers across my cheek and laughs quietly to himself. "Now John what I want you to do is very simple. I know you sent a message to Sherlock and when he arrives I shall be giving you instructions using this earpeice." He says, holding up the item in quesion. "You will repeat everything I say or I will detonate the jacket and kill both you and Sherlock...understand?"

While all I want to do is lash out and cause Moriarty pain I know that if I do Moran will tear my arm from its socket. Of course I could shift but all I would be doing is giving Moriarty further amunition to use against me and it simply isn't worth. Only if Sherlock's life is in danger and I can save him will I risk shape-shifting. From down stairs I hear the sound of faint footsteps which announce Sherlock's return. Moriarty tips his head to one side so he is able to hear better. A wicked grin spreads slowly across his face when the footsteps thunder up the stairs in a flat out run, his expression seeming almost to mock how desperate Sherlock is to rush to my side. Then gesturing for Moran to follow he walks into the kitchen, leaving me alone in the living area. Because of how the flat is set out Sherlock won't spot Moriarty until it is too late. If anything happens to him I will never forgive myself because it is my fault he is here, I sent the message to say I was in danger. Before I do anything, even shout a warning, Sherlock has burst through the door, his expression frantic. His steps falter when his gaze falls on me and he sees the bomb jacket I am rigged to. His eyes widen in what I could swear is fear. But this is Sherlock I am talking about, he can't possibly be afraid can he?

"Hello Sherlock, isn't this a pleasant surprise?" I say, repeating the lines Moriarty is feeding to me via the earpiece. Beside me I feel a threatening growl and feel course fur brush against my hand. Supressing a shudder I glance down towards Moran who is standing beside me warning Sherlock that rescue attempts and sudden moves would be ill advised. I turn back to Sherlock and swear I see a spark of orange fire burning in his eyes. He looks away however before I can look more closely, leading me to believe that I most likely imagined the whole thing. Maybe it was just a trick of the light. "Long time no see Sherly. You know something tells me that our meeting is going to go with a bit of a bang."

Sherlock grits his teeth, another sign he isn't quite as in control of his emotions as he usually is. "I know you're here Moriarty. What do you want this time? If you are trying to kill me than I have to tell you that it is beginning to grow tiring." He says, slowly turning on his heel in order to inspect every corner of the flat. He half steps towards the kitchen but stops when Moran snarls loudly and places a massive paw on my knee.

Moriarty's voice murmurs softly in my ear once more. "Why don't we make this a little more interesting Seb." I repeat, my voice beginning to shake despite my best efforts to keep it under control. I know I am close to loosing my temper and shifting but if I do that Moriarty will activate the bomb vest and even I couldn't survive a firey explosion, despite the protective covering of scales I posses once I have shifted. Beside me Moran rears onto his hind legs and shifts easily into a young, thirty something man with orange streaked black hair and a scar slicing his face cleanly in half. In a single smooth movement he leans down, wraps an arm around my throat and presses the barrel of a gun to the side of my forehead. I stiffen and barely manage to conceal a growl of anger. "Take another step Sherly and Johnny boy's brains will decorate the walls. Which would be a shame because I am rather beginning to get used to him." In my ear Moriarty sounds gleeful and also a little smug.

"As to what I want Sherly." says the real Moriarty, emerging from the kitchen and facing Sherlock. "Its really rather simple. All I want is you. Imagine, the world's only consulting detective, as my pet. Why with you by my side I could rule the world." He crows, circling around Sherlock with measured steps. I half expect Sherlock to relax but all he does is turn with Moriarty, watching him intently. He doesn't even flinch when Moriarty reaches out and runs a hands across his cheek, smiling at me when I glare at him. "Come now Sherly, you know it would be fun. Think of what I could do with a phoenix shape-shifter by my side." He says, sounding thoughtful.

I frown at Moriarty, hardly able to believe what I was hearing. Sherlock...a shape-shifter? It just wasn't possible. I mean surely I would have been able to tell, I spend enough time with him. "What are you talking about Moriarty?" I ask. Morarty ignores me however because at the same time Sherlock gives voice to a loud snarl and advances on the consulting criminal, his eyes flashing.

Moran's grip around my neck tightens, further cutting off my air supply until I am reduced to strangled gasps as I desperatly try to suck in more air. Black spots dance at the edges of my vision. I squeeze my eyes shut when I hear the click of the guns safety switch being taken off. I know then that there is a very strong possibility that I could die here today. Maybe it would be worth exposing my secret if it means that Sherlock and I get out of this mess alive.

Sherlock glances at me before turning his attention to Moriarty. In the brief moment he looks at me I see something almost like resignation on his face. "I will never join you Moriarty and you dare to hurt John I will burn the heart out of you. And you know that isn't an empty threat." He growls, his eyes gleaming brighter until it almost seems that sparks are coming from them.

A sly smile creeps across Moriarty's face and he throws himself down in the armchair across from me. "Awwe don't be like that Sherly, you're taking the fun out of this meeting. Johnny boy and I were getting along fine until you arrived. Anyway you should have realised Sherly that at this precise moment I can burn your heart much easily than you can mine. Any false moves and I will detonate the bomb attached to John Watson." He says shooting a smirk in Sherlock's direction.

Sherlock's eyes narrow and he lets out a humourless smile. Slowly he raises his left hand and I am startled to see tiny streams of fire burning in his palm. A quiet gasp escapes me. Dear god it really was true then- Sherlock was a shape-shifter. "Careful Moriarty, remember who you are talking to." He says, anger plain in his voice. "Besides as I have been told on many occasions and once even by you a heart is apparently an organ which I don't possess."

Moriarty's expression is disappointed as he shakes his head. "Now we both know that isn't true Sherly. Look at how you came running when Johnny Boy here texted you to say he was in trouble." He says with a sly smile that hints that more violence is to come despite his deceptively calm expression. Instead of making any more threats or getting Moran to shoot me Moriarty turns on his heels and walks off towards the open door of the flat, gesturing for Moran to release me. Reluctantly Moran does so and heads off after his master, shifting back into tiger form as he does so. The pressure on my neck gone I gratefully swallow great lungfuls of air. "Come Seb, let's give Sherly a few days in which to consider my offer; either he joins me or he watches everyone he cares about die. Toodles." He cries with a wave of his hand. With that he exits the flat and slams the door behind him, leaving Sherlock and I alone.

Before I can say anything or even breathe a sigh of relief Sherlock rushes to my side and begins tearing at the bomb jacket, desperatly trying to remove it. Startled by such a show of emotion I remain silent, unsure of how to react, and wait for Sherlock to finish. After several moments of frantic fumbling Sherlock manages to remove the jacket and with a tiny noise of disgust he tosses it into the corner of the room. Then he kneels down in front of the chair, places his hands on either side of my face and looks me directly in the eye. His irises, instead of their usual blue, are bright orange and burn with an intense inner fire. "Are you okay John? Did Moriarty hurt you?" He asks, his voice sounding frantic.

I let out a low, nervous laugh. I am not sure what to say to him in reply. Technically Moriarty didn't hurt me but he did manage to shake me to my core. I don't want to worry Sherlock any further though so I make an attempt at a joke. "Thank goodness no one was around to witness you tearing items of clothing off me. They might have gotten the wrong impression." I joke. Sherlock's expression remains steady and I know that he isn't fooled by the brave face I have put on.

Sherlock shakes his head and leans his forehead against mine. "I was so scared I was going to lose you when I saw you strapped to a bomb jacket." He murmurs softly, tears in his eyes. No, that can't be right can it? I look again, closer this time, and see tears slowly running down Sherlock's cheeks. My heart contracts at the thought he could care so much about a person. It is then that I realise with a jolt how close he is to me and his lips are inches away from mine. All I would have to do is lean forward slightly... my train of thought (and any actions that possibly might have followed) is shattered by Moriarty crashing through the door with a wild expression on his face. Sherlock starts and, half standing, goes to confront him.

"So sorry boys to interrupt your private moment but I got the impression during our little chat that Johnny Boy is ignorant of your little secret Sherly. We can't have that now can we? Especially since it appears John Watson is so dear to you." He says, a sly expression on his face. My fists clench, evidently he saw Sherlock's tears as a sign of vunerability and had decided to come back to kill us anyway. Reaching into his pocket Moriarty pulls out a handgun which he then procedes to aim at the bomb jacket. He gives myself and Sherlock a sarcastic wave and then pulls the trigger, quickly shifting into a magpie once he has done so and vanishing through the door.

The roar of the explosion is defeaning and is accompanied by a blast of intense heat and a shockwave which lifts me off my feet, sending me crashing back into the wall. I cry out, choking on the super heated air, and instinctively throw my arms over my head to protect myself even though I know it would do any good. After several moments of nothing happening I cautiously peer over the top of my arms to see what is going on. The scene I am confronted with takes my breath away. Hovering in front of me is a human sized phoenix, its golden red wings spread out to protect me from the fierce flames eating into the walls and furniture. It glances back at me and I am able to see traces of Sherlock in the warm orange eyes as it watches me intently. Then without warning the phoenix begins to glow brightly, forcing me to sheild my eyes, as it somehow absorbs the fire into itself and leaves ash and charred furniture in its wake. As suddenly as it began the light dies away and the phoenix lands in a rustle of feathers. Feeling a little daze all I can do is stare. It appears none the worse for the intense inferno which tore through the flat and shattered windows and melted furnishings. I wince a little. Mrs Hudson is not going to be happy when she arrives home. "So," I say, my voice somehow calm despite what just happened. "You're a shape-shifter...does anyone other than me and Moriarty know?" I ask. Damn, this is going to make keeping my own secret just that little bit harder. Though maybe since Sherlock is a shape-shifter too it won't do any harm. I will have to see how the next few days pan out and then decide what to do.

The phoenix nods, the orange gleam bleeding away from its eyes to be replaced by more familiar shades of grey, green and blue. "Only Mycroft and Lestrade know and I would prefer it if it remained that way." I can empathise with this because some people freak out upon learning that close collegues or friends were shape-shifters. "Solving cases would become difficult if I was to become a celebrity over night." The phoenix continues, shifting back into human form. Sherlock's expression is unreadable as he gazes at me from where he is kneeling on the floor. The only indications there is anything out of the ordinary (other than the comepletly destroyed flat of course) is the tangled mess his hair is in and the streak of blistered red skin on the right side of his face which looks painful. A concerned look flashes across his face. "Are you okay John? I didn't hurt you did I?" He asks, his eyes scanning me for any signs of injury.

"I'm fine Sherlock." I reassure him as I pull myself to my feet, limp over to him and kneel down next to him. At first I don't even realise I am reaching up towards the burn on his cheek until the moment I am lightly stroking my hand across its blackened edges, trying to avoid the worst of the blisters. Already the injury is beginning to heal and I watch, amazed and fascinated, as fresh skin flows over the wound, knitting it back together. Sherlock winces every now and then but apart from that the burn doesn't appear to be causing him any discomfort. "How are you doing that?" I question, curious to find out the answer because no normal shape-shifter has that capability (I should know).

A smile momentarily lights up Sherlock's face. "I am a phoenix shape-shifter John. Even though I don't burst into flames and become reborn like the creatures of myth I am able to heal and regenerate. So far I know I can heal broken bones, repair open wounds no matter how fatal they are, stitch major ateries back together and even regrow internal organs." He replies, his expression darkening as he remembers something he would obviously rather prefer to forget. He shakes himself like a dog and looks up at me to find out what my reaction will be to what he has just told me.

I think he expects me to flinch back or proclaim him to be a monster because he is startled when I lean forward and rest my forehead against his. My hand still gently strokes his newly healed skin. Beneath my touch I feel a shudder run through him. "Wow." I murmur softly, gazing into his blue eyes. "My best friend is a shape-shifter." I say with a smile, not adding that I am also one. Despite a thick protective layer of scales I would have been killed by the explosion if I'd been in my shape-shifter form. Whatever way you look at it I owe Sherlock my life. Sherlock's mouth twitches up into a relieved smile and I have to resist the urge to lean forward and brush my lips against his. Embarressed by the way I am feeling towards him I advert my eyes from his and clear my throat. "You know you hide the fact you're a shape-shifter very well. I knew a number of shifters when I was in the army who still had coloured skin or feathers showing. You on the other hand look totally human." I say, aware of how hypocritical I am being considering that no-one has been able to tell that I am anything other than human.

Sherlock doesn't appear to notice how I am feeling and leans in closer, a grin on his face. "I have learned to conceal my shape-shifter side though I am not able to control it entirely for I still have some feathers in an...unusual place." He says, his grin becoming a little uncertain. "Also." He continues, holding out his arms so I am able to see that his veins are glowing with a faint glowing light which is barely visible in the light streaming through the windows. "This little trick proves very handy on night time cases."

Sherlock is so close to me I can feel his warm breath against my skin. His proximity also allows me to notice how, unlike a human, his skin gives out a pleasant heat. "Are you telling me that you glow in the dark." I laugh but it sounds strained and Sherlock gives me a look which plainly says he has at least guessed how I am feeling. I don't know what it is but I can feel myself being drawn towards him with the result that it is becoming ever more difficult not to give in to the feelings of desire coursing through me. I wonder if he feels the same way towards me?

As though able to sense what I am thinking a sly smile spreads slowly across Sherlock's face. "John?" He whispers, his deep voice sending a shiver down my spine. "Are you attracted to me?" He asks, his voice playful. He doesn't wait for me to reply and instead closes the gap between us. His lips are surprisingly soft and press against mine with a sense of desire, as though he has been waiting to do this for a while. His arms circle round me, holding me to him, and I feel him tangle his fingers into my hair. Well this most certaintly answers my question. After a long moment he draws away slightly and smiles down at me. "I have wanted to do that for so long but I was afraid you would reject me. But after today and the scare I had when I received your text made me realise that life is too short not to at least try." He goes to pull me back to him and frowns when I place my hands on his chest to stop him. "What is it?" He asks, sounding out of breath and a little annoyed.

I lean forward to whisper in his ear. "Tell me, where is an unusual place to have feathers?" I ask him, thinking about the red scales dotted on my lower body. A blush creeps up my cheeks and I begin to worry I might have overstepped the line. To my relief Sherlock smiles down at me, his blue eyes dark with longing.

"Where do you think?" He questions before he once more presses his lips to mine. This time the kiss is deeper, more passionate, and I feel tendrils of heat emanating throughout my body. I shiver and close my eyes when Sherlock reaches up to undo several of my shirt buttons with quick, deft fingers. I hear a rustling noise and open my eyes, curious to find out what could have made such a sound. Behind Sherlock stretches a pair of beautiful golden red wings which glow with a faint light. As I watch they curl over until Sherlock and I are enveloped in their soft, warm embrace, cocooned within our own little world. Hesistantly I reach out and gently touch the feathers on the wing nearest me. Sherlock moans against my mouth and arches his back like a cat. I continue to explore his feathers, running my hands along them until I reach where the wing merges into the skin of his shoulder blade. Sherlock breaks off the kiss with a gasp and hastily finishes unbuttoning my shirt, pratically tearing it off me. His arms tightens around me and I find myself being laid on my back with Sherlock straddling me so we can still cocooned by his wings. For a moment he simply stares at me before removing his own shirt. It gets stuck on his wings and he gives me a embarressed smile as he works to untangle himself. Once he is free and the shirt has been discarded to one side I reach up and pull Sherlock to me, our bare chests rubbing against one another. I slide my hands back to his wings. Sherlock lets out another low moan and presses himself against me. I allow myself a small grin. Evidently his wings are sensitive to being touched, a revelation I could potentially have fun with. My train of thought evaporates when Sherlock's hands creep downwards and he slips the tips of his fingers beneath the waistband of my jeans.

I inhale sharply and gaze up into Sherlock's eyes. He almost seems to be asking for permission to continue; giving me the choice to say no if this was not what I wanted. Right now there is nothing I want for and I nod to show I wish him to go further.

From close by I am dimly aware of the sound of footsteps, possibly two people, thundering up the stairs but am too preoccupied to say anything to Sherlock who doesn't appear to have noticed them. A few moments later the door is violently flung open with some considerable force. "Dear god there really has been an explosion." I hear a familiar voice exclaim. "Jesus christ! What the hell are you guys doing?"

Sherlock's reaction is startling in its violence. Hissing loudly he kneels over me with his golden wings stretched out to protect me from whoever has just walked through the door.

**While Sherlock is facing off against the people who have just entered the flat I scrabble behind me for the tattered remains of my shirt and hastily pull it on. With it on I feel a little less exposed then before and I no longer mind peering over Sherlock's shoulder to find out just who has interrupted us. Dear god I hope it isn't anyone we know or I will never live this down. I smile sheepishly when I see Greg Lestrade and Sally Donovan standing in the doorway, both of them with identical expressions of shock on their faces. Oops, this was going to go well. To take my attention off them I turn to Sherlock and gently lay a hand on his shoulder. I can feel the tension that is radiating off him. At my toucch a violent shudder courses through his body but gradually he relaxes and leans his head on mine with a quiet sigh. He doesn't move however and remains between me and the others. Well I suppose there goes Sherlock's wish for no-one else to discover he was a shape-shifter. This little 'incident' will very likely be known through Scotland Yard before the day is out unless I can somehow persuade Lestrade not to talk.**

Lestrade, what are you doing here?" I say, asking the obvious question since I am surrounded by the remnants of an explosion. I try to prevent the blush I can feel from creeping up my cheeks but I fail and my face grows hot. As though he is able to sense my discomfort Sherlock shifts position and lightly kisses me on the cheek, an action which only causes me to blush all the harder. Suddenly I find myself unable to meet Lestrade and Donovan's eyes.

Loudly clearing his throat Lestrade discreetly stares over my shoulder. "We received a number of calls about a tiger shape-shifter being spotted in the area before the reports started flooding in that there had been an explosion at Baker Street. I grabbed Donovan here and came running as soon as I heard but it appears that you don't need our help." He says, glancing round at the charred remains of the flat. "What happened here?" He asks, abruptly changing the subject.

It doesn't take as long as I thought it would to explain everything from my kidnapping to Moriarty's threat and the detonation of the bomb. Throughout the explanation Sally Donovan seems disinterested in what I am saying and instead keeps glancing at Sherlock with a puzzled, almost sly expression as though she is trying to work out how she can use this to her own gain. Lestrade however stares at me with a shocked expression. Once I have finished he collapses back against the wall, looking more than a little shaken. "This is a lot to take in." He says, taking a deep breath. "So let me get this straight Sherlock...Moriarty came here because he wants you to work for him?"

Looking disappointed at Greg's ignorance Sherlock shakes his head and folds his wings against his back. "No Greg, he doesn't want me to work for him. What Moriarty wants is for me to become a sort of pet at his constant beck and call." He explains, sounding faintly disgusted with the idea. He looks over his shoulder and gives me a small smile which I return. A sudden thought strikes me. This is the first time Sherlock has actually gotten Lestrade's name right. I give him a look, wondering what he is playing at. Maybe he only gets it wrong to annoy him and this is him trying to show that he is being serious. Who knows...right now we have other things to worry about.

For a moment Lestrade continues to stare at Sherlock, obviously having difficulties in understanding what he has just heard. Admittedly it is a lot to take in. Just imagine how he would react if he learnt that there were actually two shape-shifters in the room. "I don't believe this. Why the hell didn't you tell me you were a shape-shifter Sherlock?" He cries, running a hand through his hair and causing it to stick up. He opens his mouth to say something else but is interrupted by the sound of sirens from outside. As usual the rest of Lestrade's force is slow to follow him. He glances towards the window and lets out a sigh. "None of this goes further than this room and that also applies to you Sally." Donovan pulls a face and mutters darkly under her breath but reluctantly nods to show she understands. "The official story we will release to the press will be a gas leak and an accidental spark, maybe from a cigerette, which just happened to ignite it. No-one was hurt and you and John were away on a case at the time. I really do not need another mass panic centred around Moriarty." He says, turning on his heel and gesturing for Donovan to follow him. Before he walks through the door he glances back over his shoulder and gives me a weary smile. "Sherlock, John, I think it goes without saying we will never speak of what you two were or were not doing ever again." He says before exiting the flat and leaving us alone again.

When we hear the front door slam Sherlock turns to me with a wide grin and a wicked glint in his eyes. "Now where were we John?"


	2. Chapter 2

This time there is absolutely nothing to disturb us. Having realised there is nothing further he can do here, because letting officers into the flat would clearly show it hadn't been a gas leak, Lestrade has directed his force to return to New Scotland Yard where they can be of more use trying to solve the recent spate of murders. I feel a moment of sympathy towards Lestrade because much of his workload has been a direct result of mine and Sherlock's actions. Admittedly much of it has beeen accidental. Like the time the culprit from the drug trafficking case fell from the roof after he'd run towards me and I had tripped him up. Sherlock still hasn't let me hear the end of it and keeps referring to it everytime I make a mistake (which according to him with his superior intellect is often). Though I love him dearly Sherlock can be incredibly annoying at times. All such thoughts disappear when Sherlock leans forward and crushes his lips to mine again, his hands pulling off my shirt once more as he steers me backwards in the direction of his bedroom. His lips on mine are more frantic now though somehow he stops himself long enough to gently lower me backward onto his bed. Before I am aware of what he is really doing Sherlock has undone my belt and slid my jeans halfway down my legs. For a moment he all does is stare at me, his eyes appearing to drink in every little detail of my body. Then a lazy grin spreads over his face and a faint orange glow begins to shine in his eyes. He flexes his shoulders to free his golden red wings which spread out behind him, the tips of his feathers almost touching the walls of his bedroom. His smile changes, becoming more feral.

I smile up at Sherlock, waiting impatiently for his next move. "So you never did tell me where your feathers were." I tease, my voice breathy and shaking ever so slightly as I struggle to remain in control. If I shifted now it would be disasterous and Sherlock might never forgive me. I wouldn't want that because I have been waiting for this moment ever since I first met Sherlock. Everyone had tried to warn me that he was cold and unable to form personal relationships but I had quickly discovered that beneath his hard exterior he was human just like anyone else.

With a sigh Sherlock reaches down and gently strokes his hand across my cheek. "It may be a little bit of a shock to you John." He says, a serious expression in his blue eyes. "Please don't be alarmed by what I am going to show you." He continues, his voice tinged with sadness.

Propping myself up on my elbows I fix him with a level gaze. "I saw you shift into a phoenix and absorb fire into yourself in order to save me. For goodness sake Sherlock you just healed a first degree burn which would have killed any ordinary human. I highly doubt you can shock me any further." I say, a slight smile quirking up the corner of my mouth.

Sherlock bites his lip and looks thoughtful. "Close your eyes." He says, hooking his thumbs into the waistband of his trousaurs. He rolls his orange eyes at me when I continue to simply stare at him. "Close your eyes." He repeats. I do as he says and try to control the tremors of tension which keep causing my limbs to shake. I feel the bed move and hear a soft laugh beside my left ear accompanied by a waft of warm breath against my face. "Okay John you can open your eyes now." He murmurs before pressing his lips against mine. Unlike the other times the kiss is forceful and takes my breath away. I also feel the soft carress of his feathers as his wraps his wings around us. It is just then that events begin to rapidly spiral out of control.

I had noticed before when we had been interrupted by Lestrade and Donovan that Sherlock's skin had been beginning to grow warmer. It starts off as a mild warmth which is rather pleasant but it quickly grows unbearable. With a small sigh of regret I break off the kiss and press my hands on Sherlock's shoulder to momentarily put some distance between us. Sherlock frowns at me but doesn't say anything. Lightly I lay the back of my right hand against his cheek. "Jesus, you're burning up Sherlock." I cry in alarm, pulling my hand away from him with a yelp. My palm is bright red and stinging slightly. "What's happening to you?" I ask him.

Slowly Sherlock stands, swaying a little as though unsteady on his feet, and spreads out his wings to their full extent. Tiny flames are dancing over the feathers, illuminating the room with a pale yellow light. Sherlock's face is white and drained of all colour and his skin is beginning to glow with a brilliant silver light which forces me to advert my eyes. With a gasp he slumps back against the wall and hangs his head in exhaustion. "I've tried to do too much. I shouldn't have tried to heal myself after absorbing all that fire." He explains, waving me back when I take a step towards him. "Stop, please don't come any nearer." He cries, burying his head in his hands and letting out a muffled groan of pain. Unable to control himself he shifts back into a phoenix and cowers in the corner with his wings wrapped tightly about himself.

It pains me that I am unable to help him. "What can I do? Please Sherlock tell me how I can tell you. I can't stand by and watch you suffer like this!" I cry. The glow emanating from Sherlock is continuing to grow brighter and the heat is enough to cause me to take a step back. Sherlock's face twists into an unreadable expression and his eyes turn from orange to bright gold. Slowly he reaches out and touches the tip of one wing to my cheek. I breathe in deeply, trying to steady myself. If I was an ordinary human the heat coming off Sherlock would be burning my skin but luckily I have some protection against heat. "Sherlock?" I ask, keeping my voice soft so as not to startle him.

Sherlock golden eyes focus on me and I shiver runs down my spine. At that moment I realise just how powerful he is, far stronger than any other shape-shifter I have come across. "I'm sorry John, this may hurt a little." He says before closing his eyes.

Almost immediatly I feel a peculiar draining sensation flood through me. My knees begin to shake and my chest grows tight until I find myself physically struggling for breath. "S-S-Sherlock." I gasp, having to force out each word between gritted teeth. "What are you doing?" My legs give way beneath me and I collapse to the floor. Sherlock follows me down, his wing still pressed against my face. Alarm floods though me when I feel my heartbeat slow and my pulse becoming sluggish. What is happening to me? My shifter side tries to burst out, to protect me but I forcibly push the sensation back down. When I look up at Sherlock his eyes are closed in concentration and a sudden thought come to me. Could this be Sherlock's doing? Before I can elborate the thought further I become aware of a velvety darkness fluttering at the edge of my vision and I feel the first stirrings of panic. Surely Sherlock would never do anything to harm me. As though he is able to read my mind he leans forward and plants a gentle kiss on my cheek. I frown (you know I don't remember him shifting back into human form).

"I'm sorry John." His says, his deep voice sounding muffled. "Go to sleep, you'll feel better soon." That is the last thing I am aware of because the next moment the darkness swallows me up and I know no more.

Sherlock was so preoccupied with how he had lost control and fed off John's lifeforce he didn't notice the magpie watching him leave, its beady eyes bright and gleaming, waiting until he turned the corner before springing into action. Diving down from the lamp-post the magpie shifted in mid air into human form and landed neatly before the door of 221 Baker Street. Moriarty shook his head, unable to believe that Sherlock had left John Watson unprotected and alone. Not he bothering to glance behind him he gestured to Sebastrian Moran, who growled in response and padded up the steps. Then placing a paw on the door he pushed it open so he and Moriarty could enter the flat. With a soft laugh Moriarty walked through the rooms of the 221B with Moran leading the way. He half expected to come across some form of protection and was surprised when he didn't come across anything. How careless of Sherlock. As a result of his discovery he began to grow more confident and prowled around the half destroyed flat as though it belonged to him.

In the doorway of the bedroom where John Watson was sleeping Moran shifted back into human form and turned to face Moriarty. "What do you want me to do Jim?" He asked, his eyes still fierce and predator like.

Moriarty glanced over from where he was dusting ash off of a half burnt skull. "Go and fetch John Watson will you." He asked, smiling when Moran rolled his eyes and muttered under his breath. Walking forward he reached out and lightly ran the back of his left hand across his second in command's cheek. "Oh don't look like that Seb. I know you hate doing manual work but I am not strong enough to pick him up myself. Anyway if you do this for me I promise to make it worth your while." He whispered in Moran's ear before lightly pecking him on the cheek. "Once you have John Watson take him to the van and I will meet you there. I just need to leave a little message for Sherly first." He said softly, glancing into the room at John's sleeping form.

Moran noded to indicate he understood and hastened to carry out Moriarty's instructions. Once he had exited the flat Moriarty scanned the destroyed flat while he considered what form his message should take. It could be a written message or a picture... As he often did when he deep in though Moriarty shifted back into a magpie and began to lazily fly around the bedroom, curiously searching every corner. After a few moments his gaze fell on a discarded mobile phone lying on the floor beside the bed. Inspiration struck him. Tucking back his wings Moriarty landed beside it and, closing his claws around it, managed to lift the phone up with some considerable effort. He landed on the rumbled sheets and yanked out one of his own tail feathers which he laid beside the phone. Satisfied Sherlock would both receive and understand the message Moriarty shifted back into human form and walked out of the flat, aa sly grin lighting up his face. Stupid Sherlock, he was going to pay dearly for forgetting to protect his friend, John Watson. Moriarty rubbed his hands together with glee at the thought that soon Sherlock would be in his hands. He was looking forward to having Sherlock as a pet.

Sherlock meanwhile was heading away from Baker Street without a particular destination in mind while confused thoughts churned in his head. How could he have been so irresponsible? If he had gone even a little further he might have ended up killing John. Cursing quietly to himself Sherlock ran a hand through his hair and breathed in deeply in an attempt tp get his emotions back under control. His thoughts drifted to John and how soft his skin had felt beneath his hands. A smile spread across his face. He had waited so long to do that and had been pleased to discover John felt the same way towards him. He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the sizable crowd of people gathering in his path to stare at the enormous creature winging its way through the sky. Sherlock collided with the people at the back of the crowd and stumbled back a few steps. He sighed and rolled his eyes. Typical, people never seemed to anything better to do than stand around and get in the way. Several of the crowd were shape-shifters but Sherlock hardly paid them a second glance. He was still too absorbed in his thoughts.

A deep rumbling roar echoed above them, loud enough to make even Sherlock jump. He spun round, searching for the source of the sound. He already had an idea who it could be but wished to confirm his suspicions before he acted. Around him the crowd began to panic because new rules brought in by the goverment banned shape-shifters from shifting in public places. Obviously the shape-shifter in the skies above central London hadn't received the memo. Turning on his heel Sherlock continued on his way. Right now he simply could not face a confrontation with yet another shifter.

"Sherlock!" A loud voice snarled. This was closely followed by the thud of a large creature touching down on the ground.

Reluctantly Sherlock stopped in the centre of the pavement. He let out a deep sigh- great, this was just what he needed...an audience with his older brother. Of course he could just fly away but it would be a pointless action considering his brother could also fly. "Really Mycroft, just because you hold a high position in the British Goverment does not mean you can simply ignore the new laws." Sherlock said with a laugh as he turned to face his brother.

Like Sherlock Mycroft Holmes was a mythical shape-shifter, a highly rare occurance in a country where mythical shifters were thought to be legendary. Unlike his younger brother however Mycroft had drawn the short straw where his creature form was concerned. While Sherlock was a phoenix with beutiful golden feathers, Mycroft was a grey stone gargolye. As usual when having to deal with his brother Mycroft's expression was already annoyed and irritated. "I am not ignoring the new law Sherlock but as an employee of the British Goverment I am entitled to certain...benefits." He answered in a gravelly voice which sounded a little smug. He shook himself, his joints cracking as the stone he was made of crunched together. Sherlock winced at the horrible squealing noise coming from his brother and gritted his teeth. "Anyway Sherlock we need to talk about what happened this morning. Greg phoned me earlier to tell me that there was an incident at Baker Street, an explosion apparently. He also told me that he found you and John in a rather...well lets call it an interesting position." He said, curious to see how his younger brother would react. He knew that Sherlock had always had a bit of a soft spot for John Watson.

A light blush creot up Sherlock's cheeks and he adverted his eyes from his brothers. He could always rely on Mycroft to make a conversation uncomfortable. Anyway he couldn't think about John right now or he would end up rushing back to the flat in order to crawl into bed beside John. The thought made him feel warm inside and a smile spread across his face. He shook his head when he became aware of Mycroft's blank grey eyes watching him intently. Sherlock cleared his throat, unsure what to say. Maybe it would be best if he changed the subject completly. "Did Lestrade tell you about Moriarty." He asked, a smile still on his face as he thought about John's lips on his.

Mycroft tipped his head to one side while he considered how to reply and tried to ignore the goofy expression on his brother's face knowing he was probably thinking about John again. "He didn't tell me that much. Just that he was there. What's wrong, what did Moriarty want with you?" He asked, his voice worried. Behind him the crowd begins to disperse as they realised that nothing exciting was going to happen.

Sherlock breathed in deeply and ran a hand through his black curls. He froze and stared at him hand, shocked by the faint glow which was beginning to emanate from his skin; a sure sign he was starting to loose control of his shifter side. Gritting his teeth Sherlock willed himself to stay in human form for just a little while longer. Turning his attention to his brother he began to explain, "Moriarty wants me to join me, to become a sort of pet aat his every beck and call. He said that if I refused he would destroy everyone I cared, starting with John..." His voice trailed away as realisation hit him. In rushing out of the flat so abruptly he had left John completly unprotected.

With a audible groan Mycroft lowered himself to the ground and steepled his clawed paws together. "Hmm, I can see how that could be problematic. Though you may have a brilliant mind brother your heart will always be your greatest weakness. One of these days John Watson is going to be the death of you." He said, staring at Sherlock with a serious expression. "I will offer you what help I can and I suggest also that you ask Lestrade for help because we can't be too careful where Moriarty is concerned. By the way do you need a place to stay Sherlock? I assume that since the flat was blown up you no longer have any where to sleep."

Sherlock was a little startled by his brother's concern. "No its fine thankyou, it was only the living room and the kitchen that were destroyed. The other rooms are fine." He said. He could have taken Mycroft up on his offer but he was looking forward to spending some more time with John... assuming of course that nothing bad had happened to him in the meantime before he could return to the flat.

Mycroft ran a stone tongue across his fangs. "Very well suit yourself brother." He said before pausing and staring into space for a moment. "You need to be more careful with your wings. I know you were...occupied...at the time but you really do need to take more care. I would hate it if something were to happen to you." He said, heaving himself to his feet with a groan and stretchhing out his cramped muscles with a series of loud cracking sounds. "Please try not to get yourself killed Sherlock." he said sadly before unfurling his wings with a grating noise. In a single powerful bound he launched himself into the air and slowly flew away, a dark blot in the skies above London.

Sherlock watched him go with a thoughtful expression on his face. He was a little taken aback by the crack in Mycroft's usually icy exterior, for his older brother to show his more caring side must mean that he was seriously worried. He shook his head; he didn't have time to worry aabodut it now because all he wanted to do was just to get back to Baker Street in order to check whether John was alright. Turning on his heel he set off down the street muttering darkly under his breath about how it was unfair his brother could get away with shifting in public but he would probably end up in prison if he did the same. When he arrived back at 221B half an hour later he was able to tell straight away that something was wrong. Cautiously he stepped inside and began to examine the flat for signs. On the floor, clearly imprinted in the soft, grey ash, was a set of footprints (a large cat, most likely a tiger judging by their size). Inside Sherlock's head alarm bells began to ring.

"John, I'm back!" He called as he strode into the bedroom where he had left his friend sleeping. Dear god how he hoped the alarm he was feeling was nothing and that John would still be there. It didn't prevent a feeling of despair washing through him at the sight of the empty bed. Gritting his teeth Sherlock cursed Moriarty and Moran as he stumbled towards the bed with the intention of sitting down. He stopped however when he saw the magpie feather and a familiar looking phone lying on top of the sheets. You didn't need to be a genius to work out that the two objects were obviously intended as a message but for the first time ever Sherlock found his unfailing powers of deduction failing him. An uncontrollable anger began to burn within in and he clenched his fists to prevent himself frowm lashing out at something. Moriarty would pay for what he had done. At that moment Sherlock's train of through was interrupted by a shrill, ringing sound coming from the mobile. He stared at it blankly for a few moments before picking it up with shaking hands and answering it. "Hello?" He asked.

"Time's up Sherly." crowed a gleeful Moriarty. "Now is the time to make your choice. Either you join me or I will kill John Watson here on the roof of St Bartholomew's Hospital." He said, his lilting voice sly before the phone goes dead.

Sherlock hung his head. This was all his fault...if only he hadn't gone out and left John unprotected. Whatever happened now would be all down to him. Cursing under his breath he slammed his fist against the wall. Mycroft had been wrong; it wouldn't be John who was the death of him but instead it would be him who would be the death of John. Sherlock let out a inarticulate cry of anger and threw the phone at the opposite wall. If anything happened to John he would never be able to forgive himself (something which was a serious problem for a shape-shifter who was unable to die). With a shriek of rage Sherlock shifted into his phoenix form and smashed through the window, the intense heat of the fire burning on his wings melting the glass into a glittering, twisted waterfall. He didn't care if anyone spotted him, why should he care, it wasn't like any human or shape-shifter could stop him. Beneath him London spread out in a carpet of constantly moving light and above it Sherlock's fiery wings painted intricate patterns across the grey sky. Before him loomed the tall square chimney of the Tate Modern art gallery meaning he was getting closer to the hospital.

Two of the many people to spot the phoenic burning a path through the skies of London were Mycroft, who rushed out of an incredibly important meeting the moment he heard the news, and Lestrade, who rushed out of his office and into his patrol car with the images of the utterly ruined flat still foremost in his mind. Both of them were afraid what might happen if Sherlock confronted Moriarty. Both of them could still all too well remember what happened the last time Moriarty and Sherlock had met and neither Lestrade or Mycroft wanted a repeat of that.

Before he landed Sherlock circled the building a few times to make sure no traps or ambushes were waiting for him. On each circuit the roof remained empty and finally he was forced to concede that there weren't any nasty surprises waiting for him. Tucking back his wings he dived, shifting back into human form the moment he touched the roof. Still wary of his surroundings Sherlock decided it would be best if he kept his wings out in case he should need to make a quick getaway. It was unusual for Moriarty not to have been waiting for him, suspicious even... Frowning Sherlock brushed his hand through his curls and considered his next move. The phone call from the consulting criminal had applied he was already here on the roof of the hospital and now that Sherlock had arrived and found the opposite to be true he felt at a loss. How could he possibly rescue John if he wasn't even here? Anger coursed through Sherlock and for a moment the flames burning on his wings glowed brighter and hotter. Turning on his heel he took a deep breath, "Where are you Moriarty? Stop hiding like a coward and come out and face me!" Sherlock shouted, his deeo voice carrying in the still air.

He didn't have to wait long for a reply and minutes later he heard quiet footsteps approaching him from behind. Seconds after that a smirking Moriarty appeared with Moran, who had an arm wrapped around John's throat and a gun to his head, in tow. Throwing his arms open wide Moriarty grinned at Sherlock. "Hello, so good of you to finally turn up. Tell me, have you made a decision yet?" He asked, tipping his head to one side in such a manner that he looked for all the world like the animal he was able to shift into.

Sherlock didn't reply to Moriarty because he was too busy staring at John. Despite how much he had been worrying about him John didn't look like he'd been badly treated. Sure he was a little scruffy but other than that looked relativly unharmed. He did however look unsure and Sherlock gave him what he hoped what a reassuring smile but with how he was feeling he knew his smile probably looked a little flase. John returned the smile, his eyes momentarily glowing a bright, luminous green. Sherlock blinked but the green glow was gone. He shook his head, obviously he had just imagined it. Even if he had wanted to he was unable to pursue the thought further because at that moment Moriarty gestured to Moran who nodded in acknowledgment before he struck John across the side of the head with the butt of the gun he was holding. There was a sickenining crunch and a cry of pain. Sherlock gritted his teeth, wanting nothing more than to run to his friend' aid while also resisting the temptation to burn Moriarty to a pile of ashes. "Why the hell did you do that?" Sherlock demanded, his voice rising with barely controlled anger. "He wasn't doing anything."

Moriarty shrugs. "I was beginning to grow bored." He said, crossing his arms and smiling at Sherlock. "Anyway you weren't answering me Sherly." He pouted. Behind him Moran tightened his grip on John and pressed the gun against his head again. John only just managed to prevent himself from flinching and gritted his teeth lest he should protest at the treatment he was receiving.

Sherlock clenched his fists. His mind was now made up and much as it pained him he knew it was the right decision. "My answer, Moriarty, is that I will never join you. What I want you to do is let John go so we can go our separate ways and forget any of this ever happened." He spat, turning his head so he was able to keep Moriarty within sight because there was no way he was going to turn his back on the consulting criminal pacing back and forth in front of him. "All of us will be able to walk from here unharmed and go on with our lives." Sherlock continued before closing his eyes in an attempt to calm the anger coursing through his veins because it wouldn't be good if he lost control and shifted into a phoenix right now. Sherlock let out a deep sigh and forced himself to relax enough for his golden wings to vanish.

Moriarty ceased pacing long enough for a nasty smile to spread across his face. He had been waiting for Sherlock to relax and shift back into a complete human form. "Really Sherlock, you're refusing to join me?" He asked, his voice incredulous. "How can you possibly say no to me when I am holding your best friend hostage; especially since a little birdy has informed me that you and John are a little more than just friends." He said, his voice sly.

Behind Moriarty Moran shifted his right hand into a striped paw before dragging his claws across John's chest. The sharp points easily part cloth and skin with an almost inaudible ripping sound. John bit his lip to prevent a gasp of pain escaping. A thin trickle of blood dripped down his chest, staining his clothes with red. "Don't listen to him Sherlock." John cried, no longer caring about the fact he had earlier been told to remain silent. "You know he's lying to you." He didn't react when Moran snarled loudly and raked his claws across his face, leaving behind three bloody streaks.

The anger which Sherlock had so carefully managed to control came bubbling back to the surface in a rush and in an explosion of fire he shifted into phoenix form with a piercing shriek. He knew it was, most likely, a terrible idea but he couldn't stand the thought of John getting hurt. With his burning golden wings outstretched the human sized phoenix towered above Moriarty and the intense heat radiating off his feathers forced the consulting criminal to take a step back. Usually people reacted more when they found themselves confronted with him in his phoenix form and Sherlock was therefore startled when Moriarty threw back his head in order to give voice to a loud laugh. "Thankyou Sherlock, bless you. I have been waiting for you to shift ever since you arrived." He said, bowing down before Sherlock. "Moran, now would be a good time to give me the serum." Moriarty ordered his second in command as he stretched out his hand towards him.

Making sure to keep one arm securely wrapped around John's throat Moran passed across a syringe filled with a bright yellow liquid. Sherlock tipped his head to one side, his orange eyes full of suspision as he regarded Moriarty and wondered what the consulting criminal was up to. Bringing his wings together he readied a fire ball in preparation for any sudden moves which Moriarty and Moran might attempt. "Let John go Moriarty, this is the last warning I will give you." Sherlock said, his voice little more than a snarl. Why wasn't his phoenix form having any effect on Moriarty? Usually people were scared or awed by him but Moriarty was completly unfazed and was actually approaching him with the syringe clutched in one hand.

"I did try to ask you nicely Sherlock but you just didn't want to listen to me. Now we're going to have to do this the hard way." Moriarty hissed before he suddenly lunged forward without warning and somehow managed to jab the syringe into the side of Sherlock's neck despite the burning flames licking at his unprotected skin. Depressing the plunger he sent a powerful drug coursing through Sherlock's system. Instantly the phoenix's fire dimmed a little as a wave of dizziness swept over him. Sherlock shook a few times to clear it but a faint buzzing sound persisted. He let out a shriek and threw a small fireball which soon peetered out into nothing.

John struggled against Moran's grip. "What the hell did you do to him Moriarty? What was that you just gave him?" He demanded, horrified at how pale Sherlock had already become. It was obvious to him that the content of the syringe was a powerful drug of some kind but what he couldn't work out was what exactly it did. "Sherlock, are you okay?" He cried. Panic coursed through him when Sherlock didn't react. "Sherlock? Please talk to me."

Moriarty ignored him and rubbed his hands together gleefully as he eagerly watched Sherlock. "Moran, release John Watson will you? I want to make sure the serum really has worked."

Sherlock cried out in pain and collapsed, the fires burning in his feathers going out. His veins, in fact his entire body felt like it was on fire (an irony which didn't escape Sherlock despite the state he was in). He was dimly aware of someone shouting his name and glanced up to find out who it was. He frowned at the person running towards him, not able to identify them but knowing they looked familiar for some reason. John meanwhile paused in his head long rush towards Sherlock and looked over at Moriarty. Clenching his fists he reached into his pocket for the handgun he stored there earlier when he and Sherlock had left for the crime scene. "What have you done to Sherlock?" He repeated. He was taken aback when Moriarty began to laugh again. "What?" He demanded. "What is so funny?"

"Don't worry John Watson, it'll soon all become clear to you." Moriarty said, staring over John's shoulder at Sherlock. A grin spread over his face. "In fact I believe Sherlock is ready to give you a demonstration. John frowned at him, confused, before he followed Moriarty's gaze. His heart froze when he saw the look of pure hatred in Sherlock's normally gentle blue eyes. Though he didn't know what exactly he could tell that something was very, very wrong.

Opening his beak Sherlock gave voice to an angry hiss. "Put the gun away little human or I will burn you where you stand." To illustrate his point Sherlock spread his wings and sent ribbons of fire coiling in John's direction so he was forced to stumble hastily backwards. "You will not get a second warning."

Moriarty grinned. "I would consider doing what he says John Watson because there isn't much point in arguing with a phoenix shape-shifer, especially one who feels he is being threatened." He said, crossing his arms. Reluctantly John clicked the safety back on and let the gun fall with a clatter to the rooftop. Some of the tension left Sherlock but his threatening pose still remained. A flicker of recognition briefly lit up the orange eyes followed by a name, John, before it disappeared again. "See that wasn't so hard was it John?" Moriarty said, a thoughtful expression settling over his face. "Now what are we going to do with you John? I could get Sherlock to kill you but he won't know its you so that takes all the enjoyment out of that idea...or you could simply become another body for overworked Greg Lestrade to deal with or..." A sadistic smile spread over his face. "Or I could take you with us for Sherlock to play with. Hhhm I think that might just work." Behind him Moran let out a dark chuckle.

A cold shiver ran down John's spine and he found himself frozen to the spot. "You can't so this Moriarty. Someone will notice we are missing and come looking for us. You can't just kidnap us." John shouted, angry at himself for not being able to do anything to help Sherlock.

Moriarty shook his head and gestured for Sherlock to stand down and cease his attack. The instant the command had been issued Sherlock tucked his wings back and took a step back. "No, no-one will come looking for you if they think the two of you are deaad." He said, checking his watch. "In fact if everything goes according to plan Mycroft Holmes and Greg Lestrade should be here at any moment. You and I had better make ourselves scare Seb. Good luck Sherlock, don't forget to stick to your script." Moriarty cried, shifting into a magpie and vanishing into the shadows followed by a large tiger, leaving Sherlock and John alone.

John turned to Sherlock, half hoping his friend would reveal that the control Moriarty had over him was fake but he was disappointed when Sherlock reached forward and dragged him across to the edge of the roof. John swallowed nervously as he stared down at the pavement far below. Surely Moriarty hadn't intended for them to jump had he? Because if that was the case there was no way he could possible survive because he, unlike Sherlock, was able to die. At that moment a siren cut through the air, rapidly heading in the direction of the hospital. Mere seconds later a police car with its blue lights flashing tore around the corner and screeched to a halt outside the doors. Lestrade and Mycroft leaped out and ran forward, both of them letting out shocked cries when they spotted Sherlock and John high above them on the very edge of the roof.

**Currently rewriting. Sorry it's taking so long but I have univeristy papers to write as well as my fan-fictions.  
**


	3. One Month Later

I think it is sunlight that I miss the most, cooped up in this tiny airless room; the feel of its warmth on my skin and its soft golden light. I have no idea how long I have been locked up in here but since I have been imprisoned here Sherlock has never visited which I consider a good thing because all I think about when my thoughts brieftly turn to him is how he pushed me from the roof of St Barts hospital. Even though I know he wasn't totally in control of his actions I still feel a faint resentment towards him. Standing up I pace from side to side, careful to hold my arms out before me so I wouldn't collide into the walls.

After intially dumping me here Moriarty appears to have completly lost interest in me and hasn't bothered to return once to see how I am doing. Instead Moran is the one who has been bringing me food and water, a job he doesn't overly like judging by the way he throws down both plate and cup and leaves without even acknowledging me. Meal time is also the only time the overhead lights are switched on. Occasionally as I sit here in the dark I wonder how Sherlock is doing but never for long; remembering him and the happy times we spent together is simply too painful. From outside the room I hear a faint sound and momentarily pause in my pacing, trying to make sense of the noise. Footsteps. I tense, clenching my fists. Moran has already brought my meal today so I know it isn't him. The only other options I can think of is either that Moriarty has finally decided to get rid of me or Sherlock... my heart gives a little flutter and I breathe deeply to calm myself. It can't be him...he is probably off doing Moriarty's dirty work. The footsteps come closer and back up away from where I know the door to be. The door swings open and I am blinded by the intense light streaming into my cell.

The silholtte I see framed in the light is vaguely familiar but before I can see any more the person shuts the door behind them, once more plunging the room into darkness. Apart from their quiet breathing the person remains silent, not saying a word, and don't move from where they are standing before the door. If I want to be honest with myself it's a little unsettling.

"What do you want?" I demand, clenching my fists. If this person does intend to harm me I will fight them with everything I have. The person still doesn't say anything and I hear a slight rustling sound as though they are taking a step forward. I let out a quiet hiss. "What do you want?" I repeat, a harshness creeping into my tone despite the slight shake in my voice.

To my great annoyance the person still doesn't reply. Instead an intense golden glow steadily lights up the room, forcing me to hold an arm up before my eyes. As quickly as it appeared the light fades away until the room is bathed in a gentle yellow light that is just enough to illuminate all the corners of the room. Gingerly I lower my arm and blink a few times to clear from my vision the black dots I see every time I blink. Slowly a familiar person materialises before me and even though I try to stop it a wide smile spreads across my face. "S-S-Sherlock?" I gasp, hardly believing what I am seeing before me. "What are you doing here?" I ask before a feeling of dread settles over me. What if he was still under Moriarty's control?

At first Sherlock just stands there and stares at me, an expression of deep sadness in his orange eyes. Behind him his golden red wings flutter slightly, the tips of his feathers touching the opposite walls. I see him swallow and he glances down at the floor. I frown at him, was it possible Sherlock was...nervous? I look up at Sherlock when he clears his throat and takes a step towards me. "I came to visit you John." He says, taking another step towards me.

I stare at him intently, trying to work out whether he was no longer under Moriarty's control or whether he was being ordered to trick me into trusting him. Despite the fact I have learned several tricks of observation and deduction from Sherlock I am unable to work out if it is really Sherlock I am seeing before me. Crossing my arms I stare at him, waiting to see how he reacts. He returns my stare, appearing unfazed. "Well, why haven't you visited before now? Oh wait I know...you were too busy being Moriarty's little pet." I say, only feeling a little bit guilty when he flinches and glances down at the floor. "Tell me Sherlock is that really you, or is Moriarty instructing you to do this?"

Sherlock shakes his head, his expression sad, and reaches out a hand towards me. "I'm so sorry John for everything that twisted bastard made me do." He says, his voice imploring. "Please believe me when I say this is me and that I am no longer under Moriarty's control. Two days ago I woke up and suddenly I remembered everything that had happened and everything I had done." He stops and swallows nervously. I obviously must skeptical because he runs a shaking hand across his forehead and sighs loudly. He walks towards me and when he is about an arms length away from me he reaches out and gently touches his hand to my cheek. At his touch a shiver runs up my spine. He smiles tenderly and comes closer, leaning in so his lips are inches away from mine. A bolt of electricity sizzles through me and I let out a quiet gasp. Sherlock presses in closer before pulling away and looking me directly in the eye. "See John, it really is me." He says softly.

I swallow, my breathing fast and shallow. "It reallly is you." I agree. I lean forward to kiss him again but Sherlock lays a finger against my lips. I glance at him in surprise.

"We don't have much time." Sherlock says earnestly. He doesn't elaborate as to the reason why we don't have much time and glances over at the door as though expecting someone to burst through it at any moment. Instead he places his fingertips either side of my forehead and closes his eyes. "You are going to have to trust me John." He whispers before pressing his lips to mine again.

A warm glowing sensation develops in my chest and spreads throughout my entire body until it feels like a gentle fire is burning inside me. I tangle my fingers in his hair and am surprised when I notice that my skin is alight with a soft golden glow, similiar to the one which is constantly burning through Sherlock's veins. I feel a brief moment of alarm but it quickly disappears because I know Sherlock would never do anything to hurt me.

Sherlock breaks away and smiles at me. "There." He murmurs, backing away a little. I reach towards him only to be brushed away again. "I'm sorry John, I have done all that I can for now. At least this way with the mark of the phoenix upon you you will be safe from fire damage."

I shake my head. None of this makes much sense to me but I have no choice but to go along with whatever Sherlock had planned. I am so intent on watching Sherlock that I don't notice the footsteps heading our way until the door is flung open with a bang, slamming back against the wall. I jump and let out a small cry of alarm while Sherlock growls and hovers protectivly over me. In the doorway is Moriarty and I am startled to see his face is distorted into a twisted, sadistic expression and that in one hand he clutches a syringe of the same bright yellow liquid which he injected Sherlock with before. Without warning he lunges at Sherlock who tries to dodge but fails, allowing Moriarty to plunge the syringe into the side of his neck and depress the plunger. As soon as he yanks out the needle Sherlock sinks to his knees with a groan and buries his head in his hands. A feeling of horror washes over me along with the realisation that I have once more lost Sherlock to Moriarty's control. I sigh and hang my head in defeat.

Moriarty paces slowly around Sherlock shaking his head in disappointment. "I expected better of you Sherly. Fancy sneaking away to visit Johnny Boy in the dead of night." He says, his lilting voice dangerously quiet. "Some-one will have to pay for this." He rubs his hands together and I realise with a twist of revulsion that Moriarty will enjoy whatever is going to happen next. He glances over at Sherlock who is coiled up into a ball, whimpering in pain, anda thoughtful expression settles over his face. "Sherlock." He snaps. "Get up!" At first Sherlock manages to resist the mind control serum running through his veins but as I watch, my heart in my mouth, his eyes glaze over. Once more my friend is lost to me. "You know I have been a terrible host John. I think it's time you saw the rest of my humble abode." He clicks his fingers at Sherlock and he instantly jumps to attention. It makes me sick to watch. "Secure the prisoner." He instructs.

Mindlessly obeying him Sherlock comes over to me and clips a pair of handcuffs about my wrists, rattling them to make sure I can't escape. I wince a little when the metal digs painfully into my skin. Grabbing my wrist Sherlock drags me from the room in Moriarty's wake. I see no point in struggling and placidly follow, all the while examining my surroundings for something I could possibly use. The corridor I am being led down is mostly made of metal with globe lights set in the wall at regular intervals beside metal doors, all of them closed. At the end Sherlock shoves me to the right and into a wide open area brightly lit by tube lighting overhead. After being kept in the dark for several months the light sears into my eyes and I blink rapidly, trying to focus. A shiver runs down my spine when I finally make sense of the room before me. In the centre of the floor is a wooden, straight back chair with a large drain in the floor beneath it. Neither of these things however are what caused the shiver to run down my spine. No, what I am worried about are the rusty red stains coating the grills of the drain. I drag my feet, resisting Sherlock's efforts to force me down into the chair. He shakes me hard and glares at me with fierce orange eyes.

Moriarty strides forward to stand before the chair before giving me a manic grin. Spreading his arms wide slowly spins in a circle. "Welcome Johnny Boy to my interrogation room. Here people spill their darkest secrets while I see how much pain they can withstand before they crack. It's fascinating how strong humans can be." He says, motioning for Sherlock. "Sorry, I guess the tour will have to wait. Sherlock here has been a bad shape-shifter and I wish to conduct a little experiment." He continues while Sherlock slowly walks over to him. "It will be curious to find out just how powerful my mind control drug really is. Sherlock...I want you to burn John Watson."

Sherlock tips his head to one side and appears perplexed for a moment. I clench my fists and pray for him to break free of the mind control. I am not overly hopeful however and so am not surprised when Sherlock bursts into flames. He kneels down and strokes his flaming hand across my cheek. I flinch, expecting to feel intense pain but all I feel is a light, tickling sensation. Startled I glance at Sherlock, remembering what he said earlier about protecting me with the mark of the phoenix. Obviously that means I am now impervious to being hurt by fire. I smile, the gesture is appreciated but un-needed because I have a little trick up my sleeve of which Sherlock knows nothing about. Sherlock's mouth twitches momentarily into a smile before his face settles into a blank expression.

"Stop." I hear Moriarty cry. He claps his hands together and Sherlock instantly jumps to attention. He looks confused when he sees I am uninjured. "That isn't right." He yells, slamming his fists down on the back of the chair before rounding on Sherlock. "What the hell did you do you dumb bird? Burn him again and make sure the flames are white hot this time, I want to smell flesh burning!" He shrieks, momentarily loosing control of his form and shifting into a magpie. Breathing deeply it is several moments before he is able to become human again.

Still kneeling beside me Sherlock closes his eyes and screws up his face in concentration. His golden wings ignite with intense white flames that are so hot they force Moriarty to take a step back. Sherlock lets out a quiet sigh that almost sounds like he is in pain before wrapping his wings around me. A cocoon of heat engulfs me and the chair catches fire. I gasp, the air in my lungs searing my airways but apart from that I am still unharmed. Behind me I hear Moriarty scream in rage. He marches towards Sherlock and before I am able to cry a warning he strikes him hard across the face, knocking him to the floor.

"What have you done Sherlock?" He rages, his eyes glowing with a hateful light. This time he looses control completly. Shrieking loudly he flaps around Sherlock's head, his tail twitching with barely concealed anger. "Answer me! I know the serum wore off earlier and you came running straight to John." He says before he lands on Moran's back, digging his claws into the thick orange and black fur. He glares at me and I feel a shiver run down my spine. I realise then how much danger I am in. Moriarty lets out another shriek and flys at Sherlock's face. Sherlock crys out and tries to fend off the stabbing beak and the tearing claws. "You are mine Sherlock! My own private pet." He pauses for a moment and hovers in the air. "I refuse to loose you Sherly to a mere human." Diving down Moriarty shifts back into human form and, kneeling down before me, he stares me directly in the eye. "Oh Johnny Boy, if only Sherlock hadn't left you alone you might not be in this mess. Rather careless of him not to protect you in some way." He says, a hint of cruelty clearly audible in his usually pleasant voice.

While Moriarty has been talking I have been watching Sherlock for some form of reaction that shows the mind control serum is beginning to wear off. So far there has been nothing but I still remain hopeful. I clench my fists, desperate to show Moriarty that I am not the helpless human he believes me to be. I restrain myself. No, for now I must keep that a secret because I have the feeling it will be of much greater use later on. However it is still with bated breath I wait for what Moriarty will say next.

His eyes flashing with anger Moriarty rises to his full height and stares down at me with a sadistic expressioxn in his eyes. "Now Sherly you may try to fight against what I am about to instruct you to do but in the end you will have to obey me. Do you understand?" He says, his voice dark. "What I want you to do is simple. I want you to tear out John Watson's heart."

'No' I think. 'Not even Moriarty was that evil'. My hands begin to shake, a fact that doesn't go un-noticed by Moriarty because a wicked grin spreads across his face. Okay, maybe he really was capable of such evil. Nervous sweat breaks out on my forehead as I slowly raise my head to look at Sherlock. I honestly don't know what I will do if I see his face blank and expressionless. To my relief I see an expression of disbelief and horror on Sherlock's face. At last, almost too late, the serum has worn off.

"No, I can't." Sherlock cries. Tucking his wings into his back he places an arm around my shoulder and glares up at Moriarty. "I could never hurt John." I feel him flinch a little when Moriarty's face distorts with anger. My heart goes out to him and awkwardly, despite how the metal chaffs at the already damaged skin of my wrists, I reach up and lightly run my fingers along his cheekbone. Sherlock sighs and some of the tension leaves his body.

Moriarty is obviously taken aback by Sherlock's answer because he turns his back and bends down to confer with Moran who growls menacingly under his breath. After a few minutes he stands and spins on his heel to face us. "I injected you with serum Sherlock. Right now you should be mindlessly obeying my every command. Moran here says I should allow him to kill you both and end this once and for all but I want to know how you did it Sherlock. How have you managed to fight the mind control?" He asks, his eyes flashing. Hands on his hips he stares at us. Sherlock remains silent and hugs me closer to him. Moriarty notices the movement and a nasty smirk spreads across his face as realisation dawns. "Of course I should have guessed. You are the reason Johnny Boy." He strides forward and seizes my chin in a tight grip, forcing my head upwards. He doesn't seem to notice or even care that Sherlock has sparks of fire dancing between his fingers and is snarling at him. I close my eyes and try to stop myself from shuddering at the consulting criminal's touch. "Evidently love is strong enough to break a chemically induced mind control. God how pathetic. You should know by now Sherlock that emotions just get in the way." Slowly he reaches into the pocket of his suit jacket and pulls out a black handled dagger. Beside me Sherlock tenses and prepares to attack. Moriarty continues to ignore him. "Well I suppose since Sherly is being so stubbon I will just have to deal with you myself." He says, letting go of my chin and resting the point of the dagger on the skin above my heart.

Sherlock steps forward to intercept Moriarty but he is much too late. With a savage cry Moriarty plunges the dagger into the skin, wrenching the blade upwards so it slices against a rib. White hot pain flares in my chest and I gasp in pain, slumping forward in the chair and cursing Moriarty out loud. Moriarty simply laughs and twists the blade in further. Gritting my teeth I let out an angry snarl. Despite the agonising pain I reach up and wrap my hand around Moriarty's wrist. He looks at me, startled, as I start to slowly apply pressure, more than a human being should be capable of inflicting. At the point where I feel the delicate bones beginning to crunch together I take a deep breath before letting it out in a deafening roar.

Moriarty cries in alarm and tries to pull back away from me. He doesn't get very far and only succeeds in painfully twisting his wrist in my grip. Behind him Moran looks up from where he has been pacing,growls fiercely, baring his sharp fangs, and gracefully springs to Moriarty's defence. I allow a slow smile to spread across my face before abruptly shoving Moriarty away from me and breathing a torren of burning fire towards the massive tiger flying in my direction. There is a nasty smell of burning fur and a high pitched yelp of pain followed by Moran crashing down to the ground. Frantically he rolls about, trying desperatly to put out the flames eating away at him.

From where he is sprawled on the ground Moriarty looks up at me with a shocked expression in his eyes. "What the hell are you?" He demands, cradling his wrist to his chest. I let out a quiet snort; if I am not mistaken there is a small amount of fear present in the consulting criminal's voice. Hesistantly, as though fearful to commit himself to any sudden movements, he edges backwards towards Moran who is lying still with his head hidden beneath his paws. "Sebastrian, are you okay? Please answer me!" He cries, gingerly placing a hand on the slightly singed fur of Moran's pelt. I watch him for a few more seconds before I lose interest and turn my attention instead to the handcuffs still around my wrists.

Beside me Sherlock stands up and backs away a little, despite the fact the expression in his orange eyes is curious rather than afraid. He smiles when he notices I am staring at him and shakes his head. "And you accused me of keeping secrets John. Why you have been hiding it better than I do." He says. Reaching forward he lightly runs the tip of his wings across my cheek. A shiver runs through me at the sensation of the soft, warm featehrs stroking my skin.

Grimly I smile at him and stand up. "You may want to step back a little." I tell him, gritting my teeth against the pain of the intense fire already boiling through my veins.

Hastily Sherlock backs away and leans back against the wall where he watches me intently. Moriarty half rises from where he is tending to Moran but freezes, his eyes wide, when I roar at him and trickles of fire burst from the corner of my mouth. Then, with hardly any effort, I easily shift into my true form. No surprise Moriarty appears rather surprised to find an eight foot dragon towering above him. With a stangled squeak he stumbles back, half hiding himself behind Moran's bulk. With comtempt I kick away the twisted, broken handcuffs and take a step forward, my claws scratching the concrete floor. "Moriarty, I would rethink your previous decision to 'deal' with me." I snarl. Behind me I hear Sherlock laugh softly but I hardly pay him any attention; I have more important things to worry about. "Because you will come out of it much worse than I will." Reaching up I curl the claws of one hands around the hilt of the dagger and carefully ease it out of the armour plating covering my stomach and chest with a grunt of pain. There is a small amount of blood trickling from the wound but not enough to immediatly alarm me.

Moriarty is hesistant to poke his head up over the protection of Moran's side but when he eventually does I am surprised to see his expression is gleeful instead of scared. "Brilliant!" He crows loudly. "Not only can I have a phoenix shape-shifter as my pet but a dragon as well! Think what I could do with two mythical shape-shifters by my side. Why I could rule all of London if I wanted." He cries gleefully.

I tense and snarl loudly, steam trickling from my nostrils and pooling about my feet. "Careful Moriarty. Try anything and Moran will die." I hiss, my voice low and threatening.

Moriarty shakes his head, appearing unfazed by my threat despite the previous affection he'd shown Moran. He shrugs and stuffs his heads in his pockets. "Go ahead John, see if I care. I can always acquire another second in command to follow me around. Oh shut up!" He snaps when Moran shifts and lets out a plaintive meow. "Besides," He continues as he slowly pulls his hand from his right pocket. My snarl deepens when I see his grip is tight around the barrel of a handgun, a real one this time with no syringes. "If you kill Sebastrian I'll shoot you. Even a dragon shape-shifter can die from a gun shot wound." He gloats, his voice cruel. Damn I should have known Moriarty would have another trick up his sleeve. "Do you really want to take that chance Johnny Boy?" He asks, his lilting voice sly.

I glare at Moriarty while I considered how to reply. Because of the armour plating covering my stomach and chest it is highly unlikely a bullet would hit any of my very few weak spots but of course there is still a small chance. I tap a claw against my red scales as I think, the motion creating a ticking sound. Yes I think I can risk it. Opening my jaws I breath in deeply, preparing to unleash a torrent of burning fire but before I can Sherlock steps in front of me , his golden red wings burning fiercely. "What are you doing Sherlock?" I ask. He ignores me and rears back to unleash his own curtain of flames at Moran.

Moran attempts to dodge out of the way but he is much too slow. The fire envelops him, hiding him from sight. Moran cries out, a horrible, strangled sound and dimly I see a figure writhing in the centre of the flames. "NOOOO!" Moriarty yells, his voice raw as though the cry has torn itself involuntarily from his throat. He goes to take a step forward but his gaze falls on me. His face hardens and he stays put, the finger he has poised on the trigger of the gun tightening slightly. "I warned you Johnny Boy of the consequences of hurting Moran." He shrieks, his voice pained.

"I did warn you during our previous encounter Moriarty that I was going to burn the heart out of you. How better to do that then destroy the one thing you care about most." Sherlock says, his deep voice tinged with a callous tone I have never heard before. Now I know Sherlock can be cruel sometimes if the need should arrise but that doesn't mean I overly like this side of him. "Oh don't look like that," He contines when Moriarty's face crumples and a single tear runs down the consulting criminal's cheek. "I'm only returning the favour because after all you did kidnap John and threaten to kill him." He says, a fierce glint in his orange eyes, while behind him the fire continues to engulf Moran who has long since fallen silent and ceased to move. I look at him, trying to catch his attention but he ignores him and continues to face Moriarty.

There are tears glittering in Moriarty's eyes as he glances over his shoulder towards the prone form of Moran. A shiver runs up my spine at the hatred in his eyes when he turns to glare at me. "Two can play at that game Sherlock. After all you know what people say about an eye for an eye." He says, his voice shaking though his grip on the gun remains steady. "So sorry it had to come to this Johnny Boy. I would have liked to have kept you around." He sounds almost regretful but any illusions of guilt are shattered when he smirks nastily at me before pulling the gun's trigger.

The next few moments all blur into one. Once everything has settled down I find myself looking at a scene of complete and utter chaos. Moriarty is sprawled on the floor in a crumbled heap with a gaping hole in his chest while Sherlock towers over him, blood staining his beak and talons. Slowly, hesistantly I make my way over to him, freezing when he starts and spins round to face me with a hiss. He relaxes when he sees me before collasping to his knees with a groan. I rush to his side. "What's wrong?" I ask, dreading that he will confirm what I believe to have happened.

Sherlock shakes his head and gasps in pain when he attempts to rise in a sitting position. My mouth falls open in horror for directly over Sherlock's heart is a jagged edged bullet wound steadily pumping blood across the whiteness of his shirt. His eyes are full of sadness when they meet mine. "I'm so sorry John." He gasps, a bubble of blood oozing from the corner of his mouth. His body convulses and he forces out a curse between gritted teeth. "I couldn't stand by and watch you get shot." He explains, his voice quiet and shaking.

I press my hand firmly over his wound, desperatly trying to stop the flow of blood. By now it should have started closing up by now. "Why aren't you healing Sherlock?" I ask, trying and failing to keep the dread from my voice. "You're a phoenix, you should be healing!" I see a grim expression flash across Sherlock's face before he tenses and heavy coughs shake his body. I wrap my arms around him and gently move his head so it is resting on my lap. Then I hold him tightly until the coughing has subsided. The front of his shirt is almost completly red now. Oh god. For a moment I glance away, not wanting Sherlock to see the tears in my eyes. Swallowing hard I manage to get myself back under control. There had to be something I could do. "Sherlock!"

Sherlock gazes up at me with eyes that are dull and lifeless. His hand shaking he reaches up to stroke my cheek. "The bullet went right through my heart John. Not even a phoenix shape-shifter can repair such an injury." He explains. His voice is thin and quiet enough that I am forced to lean forward so my ear is next to his mouth. At his words my fragile control breaks and a loud sob escapes me. I clap my hand over my mouth to stifle it.

With tears now running freely down my cheeks I gently press my lips to his forehead. He lets out a quiet sigh. "Please Sherlock, you can't die. I love you." I cry, my voice finally breaking. I bury my head in my hands.

"Maybe it's for the best." Sherlock says. "You were almost killed because of me John. Maybe I deserve to die." He murmurs as he gazes over my shoulder at something only he is able to see.

I reel at what I have heard. How can he think that? I don't think, judging by the paleness of his skin and the way his eyes are unable to focus on anything, that he has very long left. A wave of sorrow sweeps over me, almost drowning me but somehow I manage to keep on top of it. "Of course you don't deserve to die Sherlock. Why would you even think that?" Sherlock stares at me and I take both his limp hands in mine, wincing a little at how cold they are. A sudden though strikes me. "Sherlock, listen to me. Remember when you healed yourself by taking energy from me...well I want you to do that again." I know Sherlock will probably refuse the idea but I at least have to try. "Please Sherlock, if you die I don't know what I'll do. I-I don't know if I'll be able to live without you."

I have to wait several terrifying moments before Sherlock speaks and I panic that I might have lost him. Finally however he slowly raises his head to speak. "It's too dangerous John. I could end up killing you." He pleads. "I can't risk losing you." The blood oozing from his chest has definatly started to slow and thicken.

Sherlock gives me a weak smile which I return. "But if you don't do it Sherlock you are going to die. Please, I trust you." I murmur, leaning my forehead against his. Sherlock's skin is cold and clammy and dread clutches at my heart. Sherlock lets out a gentle sigh before relaxing back against me and closing his eyes. A few moments later I feel a draining sensation course through my veins as Sherlock begins to draw some of my strength into himself. Unlike the last time when I'd had no idea what was happening this time I feel safe in the knowledge that Sherlock would never willingly cause any harm to me. Throughout the healing process I watch Sherlock intently, marvelling at how the faint paleness in his cheeks is already being replaced by a bloom of healthy pink. Gingerly because I don't to cause him any more hurt I lay my hand on his gunshot wound and feel a smile of relief spread across my face for beneath my hand Sherlock's skin is beginning to knit itself back together. I can hardly describe how happy I am that Sherlock is going to be alright, despite the weakness flowing through my veins and the darkness gathering at the edges of my vision.

"John? John,are you okay? John!" I hear Sherlock cry, his voice sounding far away. I feel him shaking me. Taking a deep breath it requires nearly all of my remaining strength to bring myself to my senses and give him a lopsided smile. The next moment I find myself wrapped in a hug. "You scared me for a moment." He murmurs in my ear before crushing his lips to mine and entangling his fingers in my hair. I let out a quiet sigh and relax into him, our bodies fitting together as easily as jigsaw peices. At the same I flex my shoulders and my wings spread out behind me

Momentarily I break off the kiss and cast an uneasy glance towards the bodies of Moriarty and Moran. Sherlock tries to pull me back towards him but I place a finger on his lips to stop him. "Not here." I whisper. "Not with them over there. Lets go home." Sherlock frowns at me before running his hand down my back to the point where my wings merge into my skin. A shiver of pleasure runs through me and I have to bite my lip to prevent myself from moaning out loud.

**Thanks for sticking with me this far guys. More Johnlock coming up! (And this time it's serious. ;) )**

A teasing smile spreads across Sherlock's face. "Are you sure John?" He whispers softly, continuing to run his hands lightly along the leathery membranes of my wings. I become aware then, and I really don't know why I hadn't noticed it before, that when I shifted into a dragon the intense fire burning within me had burnt away all my clothes. I glance up at Sherlock, a faint blush on my cheeks, and notice his eyes are dark with lust. He flexes his shoulders and his own wings materialize. Then he carefully lays me down on the concrete floor before kneeling with his legs either side of my hips. His wings arch down until the two of us are surrounded by soft golden feathers which glow with their own inner light. I raise myself up on my elbows and my own winggs stretch up to curve over his. Then Sherlock leans down and lightly kisses me, his hands going back to stroke my wings. I feel a smile spread over my face; two can play at that game. At the same time Sherlock and I run our hands over each others wings. Both of us gasp and arch into the other, the kiss growing deeper and more forceful. At one point Sherlock breaks away and slowly runs his gaze down the full length of my body. He raises an eyebrow. "You have scales." He says, his voice tinged with amusement as he reaches down to lightly stroke his fingertips across the scales running down the inside of my calf.

"Why not." I say, my voice breathy and barely controlled. "You have feathers." I close my eyes and swallow hard as Sherlock's fingertips travel higher. "And I haven't even seen them yet." My voice breaks when Sherlock's slender fingers brush against me. I close my eyes with a groan. I hear the sound of a zip being undone followed by the soft rustle of cloth against skin. Curious I open my eyes. Hmm, Sherlock really does have feathers there... Softly he runs his hand across my chest. I grit my teeth; I don't know how much more I can take of this. As though able to read my thoughts Sherlock slides slowly down my body. I shake a little with anticipation when he runs the tiwp of his tongue along the scales on my stomach and traces downwards. A violent shudder runs through me and I lose control of my form, shifting into an eight foot dragon. Sherlock doesn't appear fazed and smiles up at me when I growl and force myself to change back. "Sorry." I gasp, running a shaking hand across my forehead.

Sherlock doesn't reply and continues to trace the line of scales running along my skin. He pauses for a moment and grins up at me with a wicked gleam in his orange eyes before he bends his head back down, his tongue flicking out. A wave of pleasure floods through me and I let out a moan. Tangling my fingers in Sherlock's dark curls I try to pull him closer. Instead of reciprocating however Sherlock lets out a low snarl and pulls away, glaring at the closed door with a mixture of anger and fright.

"What's wrong?" I ask, swallowing hard when my voice breaks to get it back under control. "Sherlock?" I repeat when he continues to ignore me. Something has caught his attention but no matter how hard I strain my ears and listen I am unable to pick up what has so alarmed him.

Sherlock does not answer right away, instead he rises to his feet and stretches his wings to their full extent, causing them to burst into brilliant golden flames. His expression is a mixture of fear and uncertainty when he slowly turns to look at me. "John, we have a problem." He says with an audible shake present in his voice. "I think it would be best, for safety's sake, if we were both to shift into our true forms now." He continues before proceeding to do exactly that. Even as a phoenix fear is still written plainly across his face. Dread clutches at my heart; whatever is about to happen must be bad if Sherlock is so afraid of it.

Even though the last thing I want to do is stop what we were previously doing I reluctantly shift into a dragon. Before, probably because I had been preoccupied with dealing with Moriarty, I hadn't noticed how small the room was and now I curse loudly when I scrap my head spikes against the low roof. I hunch over so my neck is almost bent double. Hopefully we won't have to remain like this for long or I will have to shift back into human form. I growl under my breath when I painfully scrap the scales of my tail against the concrete of the wall. Sherlock glares at me to be quiet and I go to retort but freeze when my sensitive reptilian hearing picks up an peculiar, threatening sound from outside in the corridor.

"What is that?" I ask, eyeing the door and what might be beyond it with suspicion. I hear the sound again and clench my claws. It is unlike anything I have ever heard before; a cross between the crackling of a roaring log fire and and the dry rustling of autumn leaves underfoot. Whatever that thing outside is, it is some form of giant reptile and I don't want to come face to face with it anytime soon. "Sherlock, what the bloody hell is that?" I repeat, my voice rising to the point of hysteria.

Sherlock lets out a deep sigh and slowly raises his gaze to meet mine. I am startled at the intense fear shining from the normally calm blue eyes. I can't even remember the last time I saw Sherlock so emotional. "That person I kill; the one who kidnapped you and tried to turn me into his pet was not Moriarty. That thing outside the door is Moriarty." He explains, making a sweeping motion with his wings towards the door. "The magpie shape-shifter was a doppelganger, a lookalike, which the real Moriarty hired to work for him." He pauses for a moment when a loud hiss echoes from the corridor outside.

Stunned by what I am hearing I can do nothing but simply stare at Sherlock. "Who was the magpie shape-shifter then?" I ask, unsure how to process everything I am hearing. Ugh, I can feel a headache coming on. With a groan I massage my forehead with my fingertips. A sudden thought strikes me then and I look up at Sherlock sharply. "Please don't tell me that the real Moriarty is a shape-shifter too." I say pleadingly.

Sherlock opens his beak to reply only for a deep, sibilant hiss to cut him off. "I Sssmell your fear Sssherlock." Despite the voice's distortion I am still able to tell that it is Moriarty. "Why don't you come out and play?" Moriarty taunts, letting out a nasty sounding laugh.

As the sound of his voice fades away I clench my claws and let out a loud huff, expelling a stream of fire that licks across the floor and bathes the room in a bloody hue. "Oh really Moriarty, we're the scared ones?" I retort, ignoring Sherlock's protests for me to remain silent. "You don't even have the guts to meet us face to face."

Moriarty laughs. "Me scared? No, John Watson I am not scared." He hisses darkly. I realise then that taunting him was probably not my best idea ever. An eerie silence falls and I glance at Sherlock who grimaces at me in return. Before I can open my mouth to apologise for not listening to him the world around us fragments into a chaos of swirling dust and the roar of falling masonary as the roof and the wall surrounding the door collapse on top of us. Dimly I hear Moriarty laugh wildly and Sherlock shriek in pain before a large block of concrete strikes me on the side of my head. Despite my protective scales the block knocks me to the ground and I let out a groan of pain. Briefly the dust parts and I catch a glimpse of gleaming black scales before another blow to the head plunges me into darkness...


	4. Chapter 4

Clawing my way back to consciousness is a slow and painful process for my entire body is stiff like I have been lying in one position for much too long. I shift a little and wince when a stab of intense pain shoots through my head. For a moment I struggle to remember what actuallly happened; I can recall a confusion of dust but apart from that my memory is mostly blank, before managing to bring to mind the black scales I had briefly glimpsed. It didn't take someone of Sherlock's skill to work out that they belonged to Moriarty. Hesistantly, wary of the previous pain I'd experienced I open my eyes, biting back a groan when bright light sears into them. I close them again. Okay, so I won't be doing that again for a while. Frustrated at my new predicament I swear under my breath.

At the sound of my voice someone beside me stirs and I hear a rustle of feathers followed by a familiar voice. With a sigh (because of course Moriarty couldn't just have gotten me) I hear an all too familiar voice, "John, thank goodness you're awake! I was beginning to worry about you."

With some difficulty I turn my head from side to side, searching for Sherlock, but am unable to find him. "Sherlock, where are you?" I ask to try and quell the panic I feel when I try to raise myself to a sitting position but find myself unable to move. Apparently heavy chains or something of the like have been secured around me, pinning my wings against my back and basically rendering me helpless. Well, of course a dragon shape-shifter can never be completly at someones mercy. Taking a deep breath I exhale a stream of fire that scorches the carpet in front of my nose...wait, what? The last thing I remember is a small concrete room so how am I suddenly in a different place? Hastily, because I don't really want to burn the room down around me I cut off my fire.

Then from off to one side, further than I am able to see, I hear a unpleasant hissing laugh which makes the scales on my back stand on end. "Patience John Watson, everything will be clear to you soon." gloats the unmistakable voice of Moriarty. I strain my neck, trying to spot him and maybe even burn him but I am unable to move my head more than a few centimetres. I snarl to show my displeasure and I am surprised when Moriarty doesn't make a comment. Evidently he has grown bored with me already. "Now Sherlock, what on earth happened on the roof of the hospital? I mean sure my doppelganger was very convincing and had John as a hostage but surely you with your awesome powers of deduction should have been able to work out he was an imposter. I couldn't believe it when you went along with his little performance and actually allowed yourself to be injected with that ridiculous mind control drug. Why his entire plan was flawed from the start but your judgement was clouded by the danger dear John was in...I have to admit that it did turn out to be an interesting experiment." Moriarty sighs. "You have disappointed me Sherlock, though I am prepared to offer you a second chance if you choose to accept it."

I hear Sherlock make a quiet noise of disbelief. "Really Moriarty, a second chance?" I'm assuming it very likely has something to do with killing me." He says, a mocking tone in his voice. My attention at that moment however is taken away from the conversation between detective and criminal, as I finally realise why I am unable to stand. Holding me to the ground are a number of heavy chains draped across my body. I let out a quiet huff before a grin spreads across my face. Oh, and Moriarty thinks that he is so clever. Why the idiot should know fire and metal are the best of combinations for the hottest of flames are cabable of melting the majority of materials. Following this train of thought breaking the chains should, of course, be easy for a dragon.

Moriarty tuts loudly. "Dear me Sherlock, do you really think that I am so predictable? Who says I intend to kill you when John Watson is right here." He taunts, a faint hiss in his voice. Sherlock lets out a shriek of anger followed by the roar of a burning fire but I am unable to turn my head to see what is happening. I clench my fists and curse Moriarty. Damn him for making him helpless to do anything to help Sherlock. Well, technically I am not completly helpless. Closing my eyes I concentrate on pooling my internal fires (all dragons have them don't you know) to where the chains are resting against my scales, causing them to slowly heat up. In the last few minutes the chains have began to give a little, leaving me able to raise my head a little so I can at least start to make sense of our surroundings. I inhale sharply when I see where Moriarty has brought us. Nice to know that he has a sense of humour, even if it is rather twisted.

Moriarty has brought Sherlock and I back to 221B which is now in perfect condition after us having been away so long (probably Mycroft trying to be a good brother). I quickly however push that thought aside for a moment and look around for Sherlock, anxious to find out what might have happened to him. A gasp escapes me when my gaze finally falls on him. He is trapped beneath the clawed foot of an enormous black dragon who grins back at me; its yellow eyes alight with cruelty. As I continue to watch Moriarty's, I am assuming the dragon is him, head snakes down and he sinks his teeth into one of Sherlock's golden wings, biting down until there is a nasty sounding crunch. I wince at Sherlock's cry of pain and curse loudly. Shit, why did the real Moriarty have to be a mythical shape-shifter too? Why did things just keep getting more and more complicated?

Moriarty rears back, scarlet blood dripping from his teeth, and stares down at Sherlock. "Well, attacking me wasn't your greatest idea was it Sherlock? Sure you may be a Phoenix but that doesn't stop you feeling pain, it just means that you can't die. Which actually is going to make hurting you rather enjoyable." He laughs, his voice little more than a growl.

A shudder runs down my spine because Moriarty in his shape-shifter form is a creature from nightmare with his black, gleaming scales and his glowing green eyes. He easily towers above me because of how, just like a human, he stands on his hind legs and has tiny arms tipped with lethal looking claws. I have the feeling he will prove to be a formidable opponent. I test the chains again. This time they shift with a loud clank which makes me freeze. Surely Moriarty had to have heard that. After a few moments of nothing happening I raise my head to see that Moriarty is too busy torturing Sherlock to pay any attention to me. A grim smile spreads across my face as I slowly, my head still feels sore from being hit by a chunk of rubble, climb to my feet and turn to face the large, black dragon in front of me. As I straighten up my tail sweeps everything on the table onto the floor with a clatter. Moriarty still doesn't react. Clenching my clawed hands I prepare myself to attack.

With an ear-splitting roar I charge towards Moriarty spitting fire and flame. I feel a brief moment of regret at destroying the pristine flat, especially since Mycroft had probably gone to a lot of expense in order to get it back exactly how it was before, but then my gaze falls on Sherlock. Snarling loudly I jump up and sink my teeth into Moriarty's neck, cracking several of his scales. Moriarty screeches in pain and rears back, trying to shake me off but I hang on for dear life, digging my teeth in even deeper. What Moriarty does next takes me by surprise. Releasing Sherlock the consulting criminal throws himself backward and crushes me against the wall. He growls when I let go before raking his claws across the soft skin of my unprotected underbelly, the only part of a dragon not to have scales. Wrongfooted by how fast he was able to move despite his size I break away from Moriarty, moving across the room away from him, and eye him warily. Behind me Sherlock tries to rise to his feet but fails and collapses down to the floor as his wounds continue to heal.

Moriarty bares his blood stained fangs at me, snarls prompting small dribbles of green flame trickling from the corner of his jaws and half unfurls his wings so his vast bulk completly blocks my way to the door. "I am going to enjoy killing you John Watson." He hisses, a dark glint present in his yellow eyes. Without warning he lunges forward and rams into me, knocking the breath from my body and propelling me across the room. I smash into the wall, sending chips of plaster and glass from the picture frames hanging there flying. A nasty smirk lights up Moriarty's face briefly before he bites down into my neck. Pain crashes through me and an involuntary whimper escapes me when Moriarty sinks his teeth in deeper.

I reaalise then Moriarty is twice my strength and more powerful than I can ever hope to be. I won't be able to win this fight. A wave of sadness washes through me at the thought but I hastily push it aside. No, I will not just give up; I will continue to fight until all the breath is gone from my body.

Gritting my teeth I roar in pain and lash out with my claws, tearing into the thick armour plating protecting Moriarty's chest. Somehow, most likely through sheer desperation, I suceed in tearing a sizable hole in his black scales before he retaliates by releasing his grip on my neck and breathing a torrent of green fire into the wound. The pain is unlike anything I have ever felt before, flowing through me in a white hot wave which consumes everything in its path. I hear a terrible scream aand it takes several moments before I realise it's me. My vision blurs and I shift back into human form, curling up into a ball and trying to ignore the blood rapidly pooling around me. Violent shudders run through me body. Above me Moriarty smirks and takes a deep breath, preparing to incinerate me. Grimacing I close my eyes and prepare myself for what I am sure is the end.

A piercing shriek echoes through the room. Weakly I turn my head in time to see a blur of golden red appearing from nowhere and latching onto Moriarty, tearing into him with beak and talon. Moriarty staggers back against the onslaught, his tail whipping from side and side and sending a small table smashing into the opposite wall. While Moriarty is busy trying to stop Sherlock from pecking his eyes out I slowly crawl away from them into a corner, blood pouring from my wounds. I groan, gritting my teeth against the pain. Though mythical shape-shifters were able to heal quicker than normal shifters the amount of blood I was loosing could potentially be deadly. My strength fails me and I collapse, unable to move and helpless to do anything but watch as Moriarty swipes at Sherlock, sending him flying backwards into the wall before he turns his attention back to me. A nasty smirk spreads across his face and his green eyes gleam with hatred as he stares down at me. There is no point in pleading for my life, Moriarty is going to kill me no matter what I say. Before he can strike there is a gravelly, deep roar and the room goes dark as a massive creature blocks off the light.

Moriarty's reptilian features distort in a snarl. "Oh look Sherlock, here comes your older brother to save the day." He sneers, his head snaking round to stare distainfully at the large gargoyle hovering outside.

Intense pain shoots through my side and I cry out. Black spots dance at the edges off my vision and panic flows through me. "Sherlock.." I croak but that is all I manage to force out between gritted teeth before everything goes black and I know no more.

When I open my eyes again some time later the room is empty of Moriarty and yet another of the flat's windows are smashed. I close my eyes with a small wince. Mrs Hudson is not going to be pleased when she sees the lastest mess we have been partly responsible for creating. My train of thought is prevented from going any further when I become aware of someone gently stroking my hair. I open my eyes, curious to see what is going on. Hmm, if I am not mistaken I appear to be lying with my head on someone's lap. Slowly, acutely aware of the pain coursing through every nerve fibre, I move so I am able to see who is looking after me. My eyes meet Sherlock's ocean blue ones which are full of anxiety as he watches me intently. He smiles in relief when he sees I am awake. I attempt to raise myself slightly but the pain is too much; biting my lip I lower myself back down. Despite how much pain I am currently in it isn't actually as bad as what I was expecting. Carefully I probe the various places where Moriarty had left a mark. To my surprise many of them are partially healed, though from what I see of my shoulder wound when I turn my head to inspect it I am going to need to go to a hospital pretty soon. "Sherlock." I murmur, my voice barely above a whisper. "I'm sorry." Ignoring the pain I reach up and lightly stroke my hand across his cheek.

Sherlock frowns at me, a startled expression in his orange eyes. "There is no need for you to be sorry John. You were trying to stop Moriarty from hurting me." He says softly. The hand stroking my hair moves down to gently touch my wounded shoulder. I bite my lip, having to stop myself from cryifng out in pain. Sherlock hesistates, his blue eyes filling with sadness, before intertwining his hand in mine. "This might hurt a little John. Moriarty inflicted so much damage on you John." He says, closing his eyes and furrowing his brow in concentration.

It takes me a moment to realise what Sherlock is doing. Finally however it dawns on me when I feel damaged skin and muscle knitting back together, a sensation that at first was merely unplesant but it quickly escalated into white hot needles of pain that took my breath away. Gritting my teeth I tighten my hand around Sherlock's, which to my alarm goes slack as though he is struggling to remain upright. I hear Mycroft let out a huff of alarm followed by a shout, "Stop Sherlock! You're going to kill yourself!"

Sherlock gives his head a violent shake. "I need to stop John's internal bleeding first." He manages to gasp out. Alarm floods through me when I see how pale he is becoming and the warm glow usually shining from his skin has faded almost to nothing. Horror settles over me; oh god, he is using his life force to heal me.

"Please Sherlock, stop!" I plead. I try to tear myself away but he tightens his grip and holds me closer to him. "What will you achieve if you kill yourself healing me?" Sherlock ignores me completly and stares off into the distance. "For gods sake Sherlock, do you think I could live a happy life knowing what you sacrificed for me!? I love you Sherlock...I couldn't live without you." I cry, my voice breaking as I bury my head in my hands. My last exclamation manages to get through to Sherlock and he lowers his hand slowly from my shoulder, swaying like he is on the brink of collapse. Not caring that I am not fully healed I ease myself up and turn to face him. His face is white as a sheet with a sickly green tinge. My heart swells with affection and I lean forward to press my lips tenderly against his, not caring when Mycroft coughed and politely turned away. Sherlock's lips are soft and warm on mine but the kiss doesn't last for long because Sherlock draws back with a gasp and a moan of pain. I wrap my arms around him, comforting him. "Sssh it's okay. It's all over now, Moriarty's gone." I murmur in his ear. A sudden thought strikes me and I glance over at Mycroft who is looking faintly embaressed. "What happened to Moriarty anyway?"

Mycroft shrugs and I wince when his stone limbs grate together with a screech. "He bolted as soon as he lay eyes on me." He says, pointing towards the smashed window and heaving himself to his feet. "Anyway Lestrade should be here soon to make sure he doesn't come back, I need to get both of you to a hospital."

The news that Lestrade is coming sends Sherlock into a panic. "No Lestrade can't come here." He shouts, apparently horrified Mycroft could even have made such a suggestion. "That's what Moriarty wants, he is the last peice in Moriarty's puzzle." He rolls his eyes when I stare at him confused as to what he means. "I just worked it all out! This whole time Moriarty has been working on an elaborate plan from the moment he kidnapped John and now he is close to being it to fruitation!" He crys, his eyes wide and frantic. I stroke a curl of black hair away from his eyes and rest my forehead on his. After everything we have been through at Moriarty's hands it doesn't take much to persuade me he is telling the truth-though I have the feeling Mycroft will need something more before he is able to believe his brother. It doesn't come as a shock then when Mycroft shakes his head looking skeptical.

"What exactly is Moriarty's plan little Brother?" He asks, his tone unbelieving. Mycroft shakes his head and stares at Sherlock with his unsettling blank grey eyes. Sherlock goes to reply but instead lets out a long breath and collapses back against me. I am startled by how cold his skin feels, almost like ice. Mycroft frowns and quickly pads towards us, his expression concerned. "Moriarty is no longer here Sherlock and even if he was I wouldn't let him hurt you." He explains in a slow voice as though speaking to a child. "I need to get you to a hospital Sherlock; somewhere you can rest and heal undisturbed."

Sherlock sighs and closes his eyes. "Do what you will Mycroft." He says, going limp as he surrenders himself to the bliss of unconsciousness. I smile at the serene expression on his face and plant a gentle kiss on his forehead before looking up at Mycroft. He is now looming over the two of us and actually, though I would never admit it to him, is rather forboding when you see him up close. With a huge stone paw he indicates I should climp up onto his back. I obey, reluctantly leaving Sherlock, and pull myself up using cracks in his stone skin. He waits for me to settle into the hollow at the base of his neck then carefully, tenderly picks up Sherlock and cradles him to his chest. Then with heavy footsteps which shake the flat Mycroft thumps over to the window and hauls himself out, clumsily opening his wings and flapping them to get airborne.

Before he rises above the rooftops of London I glance down at the street and notice two figures lurking in the shadows beneath a streetlight. One of them is Moriarty, his black scales gleaming like sunlight on a oil spill, and the other is a tall man wearing a well tailored suit and a top hat which obscures his face. As the man turns his head I swear I see a flash which reminds me of light reflecting off a pair of glasses. I spot something else then which sends a trickle of cold dread down the back of my neck. Why is Moriarty wearing a collar? The sight is so disturbing that I grip the spike in front of my tightly and lean forward to yell in Mycroft's ear. "Mycroft, do you know who that guy down there is?"

Mycroft pauses, hovering in place as he squints down towards where I am pointing. When he next speaks he sounds confused. "There's no one there John. Are you sure you saw something?" He asks, obviously assuming I am hallucinating. Shaking his stone head he soars up into the sky until the rooftops below us are tiny dark blobs. "Hang on." He says, banking left in the direction of the nearest hospital to Baker Street.

Without warning pain shoots through my shoulder followed by a warm trickle of what I assume to be blood. I swear under my breath. Damn, though Sherlock partially healed my shoulder it is evidently very far from okay. I hug my arm to chest, leaving me with only one in order to hang on. After a few moments of struggling to stay upright I feel myself slip sideways and let out a yell of fright when I find myself staring straight down at the ground far below and the dim shape following us. In my panic I dismiss it-because after all who possibly could control the world's only consulting criminal and the one person who almost beat Sherlock. It takes an immense effort to haul myself upright and when I am finally seated again I rest my head against the cold stone of Mycroft's neck and gasp for breath. The blood pumping from my shoulder is soaking into my already stained shirt and pinpricks of darkness dance at the edges of my vision. I groan loudly.

Mycroft glances back at me, his eyes widening when he sees the condition I am in. "John, are you alright? John?" His voice rises when I don't reply. "John! Oh god, hang on...we're almost there." He cries, tucking his wings back and diving down.

I am barely aware of the cold wind howling past or the ground rushing up to meet us as Mycroft prepares to land. Instead the world around me is dissolving; melting away into a thick, heavy blackness into which I am grateful to surrender myself. After that there is nothing but emptyness.


	5. Chapter 5

It didn't take long for Sherlock to recover since all he needed was a good rest and something to eat. It also helped that he was undisturbed by nurses and doctors after Mycroft had told him that his brother technically didn't need any real medical attention. John on the other hand was a different story. As soon as Mycroft had landed and knelt down so John could be lifted from his back he was rushed into surgery where frantic surgeons worked non-stop for three hours to stop the internal bleeding and remove some of the burnt flesh. John was currently in the intensive care unit surrounded by tubes and beeping machines, seperated from Sherlock while he healed. It had taken quite a bit of persuasion to stop Sherlock from sleeping beside John. To set him at ease Mycroft had been forced to agree to lay outside John's room in gargolye form, despite the complaints from those who had to step over him, to set Sherlock's mind at rest. Lestrade had also agreed to protect John. As a result Sherlock was in a room completely on his own because everyone had figured a phoenix shape-shifter was able to take care of himself.

Sherlock was regretting the desicion now as he stared at the figure standing in the doorway of his room. "Well I suppose you had better come in hadn't you." He said, his orange eyes intent. "After all I was wondering when you were going to turn up Moriarty."

Moriarty was silent as he walked towards the bed in human form. He didn't look quite as sure as he usually did for now he walked with a limp and his immaculate clothes were filthy. Though Moriarty's head was bent Sherlock was able to see the black leather collar around the consulting criminal's neck. Sherlock frowned, confused. These past few months had just been getting steadily more and more out of control.

Moriarty hissed and bared teeth with sharp points. "I wouldn't be quite so cocky if I were you Sherlock." Reaching up he scratched at the collar and made a small noise of frustration.

Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "What do you want this time? Let me guess, you have either come to threaten John again or you are here to beg me to be your little pet again." He pauses and a sly expression settled on his face. "Though by the looks of it you are already someones pet." Sherlock said, glaring at Moriarty. If he dared to lay a finger on John he would attack.

Moriarty's answer however never came because instead a harsh, grating voice echoed from the doorway of the room. "You are almost correct Sherlock but there is one very important detail you got wrong. You see it was never Moriarty's intention to make you his pet-it was mine. I was just using him to see how you would react to the idea."

Sherlock tensed and flexed his shoulders. In reponse to the movement his wings emerged with a whoosh and spread out behind him, the golden red feathers igniting with a fierce fire. He looked over at Moriarty and was shocked to see that the consulting criminal looked scared. Sherlock's eyes were drawn back to the collar and his mind began to whir, putting together all the peices. "Obviously, whoever you are, you have a degree of control over Moriarty. What I don't understand however is who you are or what you want with me." Sherlock said, keeping his eyes fixed on the door. For a moment his thoughts went to John but he relaxed when he remembered that his brother and Lestrade were on guard. Because his mind was elsewhere it was several moments before he realised there was another person in the room.

At first sight you could be mistaken for thinking the person was nothing more than a shadow until they stepped forward, revealing themselves to be a tall man dressed in a black suit with the brim of the top hat they were wearing obscuring their face. In one hand he carried a cane which he swung at Moriarty, catching him in the back of the knees. Moriarty snarled quietly but otherwise but didn't say anything. Slowly the man approached Sherlock, stopping a few metres away. For a moment there was silence but then the man swept off his hat and sank into a low bow. "It is a pleasure to meet you again Sherlock Holmes, I have wanted to do this for a long time." The man said as he straightened back up, allowing Sherlock a glimpse of the scars disfiguring the left side of his face. He smiled a lopsided smile when Sherlock gasped. "Maybe you recognise me Mr Holmes because, after all, it was your fire that burned me."

Oh Sherlock recognised him alright and shocked realisation dawned on his face. "H-how did you survive?" He stuttered, unable to believe his eyes at this spectre returned from the dead. His eyes flicked towards the door. Maybe if he was quick enough he would be able to escape.

The man standing in the doorway rolled his eyes at the detective's ignorance and guestured for Moriarty to shift into dragon form and block the door. Once he was satisfied no one was getting in or out he turned his attention back to Sherlock. "Now Mr Holmes, why don't we get down to business." He said, leaning in his cane. "Because unlike my pet here and his pathetic mind control serum I have a much more persuasive proposal for you."

Sherlock clenched his fists, barely managing to stop himself from lunging at the man before him. The last time he had come up against him it had almost killed him and, so Sherlock had believed, destroyed the person now standing before him. A shiver ran down his spine. "I will never help you Magnassum." Sherlock said, his voice hard. Flinging aside the bed sheets Sherlock stood, his golden wings stretching out behind him and touching the ceiling.

Charles Augustus Magnassum glared at Sherlock with hatred, he also was remembering the last time they had met. "You should be careful how you address me Mr Holmes because I know your pressure point." He hissed, his disfigured face distorting in anger. He paused and took several deep breathes in order to calm himself down. "Now my proposal is simple, I would like a companion to help me as I carry out my lastest plans. Moriarty is an alright pet but he doesn't have any spirit or freewill after I broke him in a little too well...anyway I require someone smart who is able to think on their feet. You Sherlock would fit the bill rather nicely and of course there would be certain-benifits. So what do you say My Holmes, will you join me?"

Sherlock crossed his arms. "I still say no Magnassum and nothing you can do will make me change my mind." He said sharply, his eyes flicking towards the door again. Maybe if he attacked without warning he'd be able to overpower Moriarty...

Instead of being angry a nasty grin spread across Magnassum's face. "Bad desicion Mr Holmes." He said before he spun on his heel to face Moriarty. "I think you should pay a little visit to John Watson." He informed the dragon who nodded in response and flexed his claws as though eager to shed blood.

Gritting his teeth Sherlock cursed under his breath. Damn, he had forgotten how good Magnassum was at manipulating people. Sherlock clicked his fingers, summoning a fireball, and prepared to throw it at the person who he'd already burnt once. "Leave John out of this, he's been through enough." He snapped, his orange eyes glowing with a fierce light. He hissed when Magnassum took a step towards him. "Come any closer and I will kill you."

Magnassum shook his head. "Oh I don't doubt that Mr Holmes but you didn't exactly have much success last time did you?" He said with a small shrug. "Agree to join me or I will take great pleasure in personally killing John Watson." Sherlock opened his mouth to speak but Magnassum cut him off. "And no your big brother won't be able to stop Moriarty because he is only a gargoyle and stone can easily be smashed."

A feeling of despair swept through Sherlock and he hung his head in defeat. He didn't have any idea how he could win this time, not with John and Mycroft's lives on the line. He sighed deeply before replying. "If I agree to join you will you leave John alone and promise not to hurt him?" He asked, all the fight gone from him.

A smirk spread across Magnassum's face as he watched Sherlock close his fingers around his fireball aand extinguish it. At last he had finally managed to defeat the great detective. It was going to be great to have such a powerful shape-shifter by his side. Why, with Sherlock under his command, all of London would be forced to surrender to him. "Of course Mr Holmes, you have my word." Behind him he heard a quiet snigger from Moriarty and glared aat him until he shut up. "Will you be leaving with us now or do you wish to say goodbye to your loved ones?" Magnassum taunted, no longer afraid of what Sherlock could do to him.

"At least let me say goodbye." Sherlock said with a sigh, his gaze drifting towards the door. A slight smile appeared on his face but he hastily composed his face again into a serious expression before Magnassum could see it.

Though neither Moriarty or Magnassum were aware of them Lestrade and a number of his officers were waiting outside the door to make their move, tipped off when Sherlock had pressed the call button on his mobile, alerting Lestrade to the fact that something was wrong. After everything that had happened of course they weren't going to leave Sherlock completly unprotected. Lestrade motioned at one of his officers and pointed in Moriarty's direction. The officer nodded in acknowledgment, swallowed nervously and edged forward with a syringe of strong tranquilizer clutched in one hand. In order to put Moriarty down in dragon form the officer faced the daunting task of walking around and plunging the syringe into Moriarty's soft underbelly. Muttering a quiet prayer under his breath the officer lunged forward and jabbed the needle into Moriarty. The dragon roared in anger and spat out a torrent of fire which narrowly missed the officer as he threw himself to one side. To Lestrade's relief it didn't take long for the transquilzer to work and before a minute was out Moriarty was lying on the floor, fast asleep.

When he heard the thud of Moriarty hitting the floor Magnassum spun round with a hiss, baring his teeth when he saw Lestrade and his officers behind him. Rage gleaming from his eyes he rounded on Sherlock. "Damn you Mr Holmes, I should have known you'd have another trick up your sleeve." He snarled, cramming his top hat back onto his head and angling the brim so it concealed his scarred face once more. Before turning to Lestrade Magnassum hastily composed his face into a calm expression. "Hello Greg Lestrade, how nice of you to turn up." He said mockingly, holding out his hands so Lestrade could snap a pair of handcuffs around his wrists. Over by the door two officers argued about how they were going to get the the unconscious Moriarty through the small door. As he was being lead away by an officer Magnassum grinned back over his shoulder. "We shall meet again Mr Holmes."

Once he was gone Lestrade hurried to Sherlock's side, his eyes scanning the detective for any sign of injury. Though he looked relatively okay he knew that Sherlock was rather good at hiding pain. "Are you okay? Did Magnassum do anything?" He asked earnestly, playing the small black box in his pocket given to him by Mycroft with strict instructions to hand it to Sherlock with the words, "For when you need it."

Sherlock ignored his question and started to bombade him with ones of his own. "How is John? Is Mycroft still guarding him? Are his wounds healing?" He asked. "Can I go and see him?" He demanded, not caring how frantic he was sounding.

A gentle smile settled over Lestrade's face. "When I received your call John had just started to wake up and had already begun to ask for you." He explained before pulling the box out of his pocket and handing it over. "A present from Mycroft." He said in reply to Sherlock's questioning look. Sherlock cracked the box open and smiled when he saw what was inside. His brother knew him well. He nodded at Lestrade and stored the box safetly in his pocket for when he finally saw John again. Lestrade turned towards the door. "Come on I'll take you to John. Oh and by the way I would lose the wings. The medical staff are very particular about shed feathers, fur and scales destroying the sterile conditions of their wards."

There was a spring in Sherlock's step as he followed Lestrade down the corridor towards the lift. At last, with Moriarty and Magnassum out of the picture, he and John would finally be safe. Throughout the journey in the lift and the subsequent walk down another corridor identical to the first one Sherlock fingered the black box in his pocket, rolling it over and over, while he imagined the expression on John's face. When they finally reached the room where John was being treated it took everything Sherlock had not to simply rush forward and blurt the news out right away. Somehow, with a little help from Lestrade and the glare he shot in Sherlock's direction, he managed to contain himself, calmly stepping over a sleeping Mycroft. Inside the room John was sitting up in bed reading the paper and Sherlock paused for a moment in the doorway, watching his friend frown as he turned over a page with a faint rustling sound. Lestrade hung back, realising that the reunion was for John and Sherlock alone.

John glanced up when he heard footsteps approaching the bed, a wide grin spreading across his face when he saw Sherlock walking towards him. Folding the paperr he laid it on the table beside his bed, wincing a little when the movement pulled at his stitches. For a moment the two of them stared at one another, both relieved that the other was okay, and then Sherlock slowly, almost hesistantly, moved forward and perched on the edge of the bed.

"How are you Sherlock?" John asked, reaching out to place a hand on Sherlock's arm.

Sherlock sighed and took both of John's hands in his. "You know it should be me asking you that. I'm the one with the magical healing abilities." He murmured, leaning forward to place a light kiss on John's forehead just above the small cut he had gained in the fight against Moriarty. Sherlock closed his eyes. Poor John, though he was trying to hide it he was able to tell that he was still in quite a lot of pain. Even though he knew John would hate it he began to channel a small peice of his life force into his friend in order to heal the small wounds and aches he hadn't been able to before. He felt John try to pull away but simply gripped his hands harder.

"What are you doing?" John demanded, sounding anxious. He didn't want Sherlock to heal him comepletly because that was the whole point of Mycroft bringing them to the hospital. All Sherlock was doing was using up precious strength that he himself would need. "Please don't do this Sherlock. I'm fine, the doctors are taking good care of me." He protested, finally managing to pull his grip from Sherlock's. He glanced up briefly, saw the complicated expression in Sherlock's eyes and decided it was best to change the subject. "Anyway, what took you so long to visit. I've been waiting for you to turn up."

Nervously Sherlock cleared his throat and closed his eyes. Should he tell John about Magnassum's visit or would it be kinder to keep me in the dark? When he opened his eyes again John was staring at him intently with a searching, curious expression on his face as he waited for Sherlock to answer him. Sherlock decided that it was probably best not to place such a burden on his friend's shoulder until he was healed. Desicion made, he ignored John's previous question and reached forward to gently part the bandage stretching from around John's shoulder. He felt John shiver beneath his touch but paid him no attention. He was more concerned in finding out what condition his friend was in after his second attempt to heal him had been rejected. To his relief the gaping wound with its blackened, burnt edges was now little more than a rather nasty looking scar which would eventually heal away to nothing. He pulled his hand away and looked up at John with a smile. "How are you feeling now?" He asked.

John returned his smile and placed his hand on Sherlock's cheek, swallowing back the sudden wave of emotion which was threatening to engulf him. "I'm fine thanks to you healing me." He said, a playful tone in his voice. A moment later his face twists sharply, becoming more serious. "Next time I'm injured though please don't try and kill yourself okay? I don't know what I would do without you Sherlock- you're everything to me."

Sherlock looked sheepish for a moment before he relaxed into John's touch, savouring the warmth. "I am so sorry John." He murmured softly, shifting a little so he was able to look John in the eye. "I promise you now that as long as we both shall live I will never needlessly endanger your life again or try to heal you beyond what it is my ability to give." He said, his voice low and intense. Again his hand stroked the velvet box in his pocket and he smiled. Now was as good a time as any to give it to John. Sherlock took a deep breath and quickly, before he could bottle out, pulled the box from his pocket and held it up. He tried to speak but found himself suddenly speechless.

John frowned at him. He could tell Sherlock was eager to tell him something but was unable to work out exactly what it was despite the small box Sherlock was holding up for his inspection. "Are you okay Sherlock? You're acting strangely today." He said, leaning forward slightly to look Sherlock in the eye. Confusion flooded through him when the detective hastily looked away from him. What had gotten into Sherlock today?

Sherlock licked his lips. Now the moment had come intense nerves washed through him, almost paralysing him. What, even after everything they had been through, John rejected him? No, he was just being ridiculous. He loved John and from several intimate moments he knew that John felt the same about him. Taking a deep breath to calm himself Sherlock flipped open the box and presented the contents to John who gasped quietly and glanced up in shock. The ring was simple but elegant with a single cut diamond surrounded by six tiny deep blue sapphires and glittered brightly under the artificial lights of the hospital room. A smile spread across Sherlock's face when he saw the twin expressions of increduality and joyful surprise spreading across John's face. Technically he should be down on one knee but he didn't want to leave John's side even for a moment. "John, will you marry me?" Sherlock asked, his voice hopeful.

Tears of joy welled in John's eyes. "Yes...yes!" He cried, flinging his arms around Sherlock's neck and kissing him roughly.

The corner of Sherlock's mouth twitched up in a smile as he returned the kiss for a moment before gently disentangling himself. Then taking John's hand he carefully slid the ring onto his left ring finger. "John, you have just made me the happiest person in the world." He said, his eyes shining. From behind them came the sound of loud applause. Sherlock jumped and spun round, his eyes glowing orange for a moment, but he relaxed when he saw it was only Lestrade and Mycroft and a wide grin spread across his face. Satisfied that there were no more villians or enemies around Sherlock leant down to press his lips to John's, his soon-to-be husband. The thought sent a thrill running through his body and, unable to control himself completly, his wings materialised and curved around John, enfolding him and John in a golden feathery embrace.

Safe and warm in Sherlock's arms John relaxed and allowed the tension of the past few days to flow away. Finally he and Sherlock were safe from harm now Moriarty was gone. John sighed in contentment; he had the feeling that from now on life was going to be a lot better.

The End

**Technically not the end because I am working on a bonus chapter featuring the wedding. Hope to have that written up by the 7th. Hope you have enjoyed the Heart of the Phoenix because I have certaintly enjoyed writing it. **


	6. Bonus chapter: the wedding

I still can not believe that the big day is finally upon us, the day when Sherlock and I will pledge to spend the rest of our lives together. I pause for a moment and look into the mirror, marvelling at how today I must be the luckiest man alive. Excitement floods through me and for a heartbeat I loose control of my form and find a dragon staring back at me from the mirror. Whoops, I'll have to try not to do that during the ceromony or I'll alarm the few non shape-shifters who are coming. Breathing steadily a few times to calm myself I shift back into human form and finish knotting my tie about my neck. There, I'm ready and there is still half an hour to go... I don't know if I'll be able to wait that long.

I begin to pace, a dreamy smile spreading across my face as my thoughts settle on Sherlock. Right at this moment he is probably doing the same things I am; getting ready and eagerly anticipating what is to come. Despite my previous feeling of calm nerves flutter in my stomach and not even breathing exercises are enough to get rid of them this time. I'm not surprised that the nerves are kicking in now considering the sheer amount of people who will be attending the wedding. At first Sherlock and I had intended to have a small, intimate wedding with only our closest friends in attendance but then Mycroft had gotten involved and suddenly our plans had escalated from a registary office into a woodland clearing with over four hundred shape-shifters on the guest list. Apparently, according to Mycroft anyway, shape-shifters loved a good party and would be highly offended if they weren't invited. Originally we had tried to protest but eventually had realised that it was best to just leave him to it. I was beginning to regret not even having a little say in mine and Sherlock's wedding day when I looked out of the window and saw the constant stream of creatures pouring into the wood with Lestrade, Mrs Hudson and Molly following a few steps behind them. Swallowing I turn away from the window and gaze into the mirror again. True to wedding tradition (amongst the shape-shifter community) I was wearing a suit which reflected the creature I was able to shift into and the red scales sewn into the material glitter every time they catch the light. I don't know what Sherlock's suit is like because I haven't seen him since yesterday morning, another shape-shifter wedding tradition which I didn't agree to, and I won't lay eyes on him again until I walk down the aisle. A thrill of excitement runs through me and I am unable to stop a wide grin from spreading across my face. I glance at my watch and groan under my breath when I see there is still fifteen minutes to go. I begin to pace again.

After what feels like hours but is probably only minutes I hear a gentle knock on the door followed by it swinging open to reveal Lestrade standing outside the cabin. "It's time." He says with a smile. "Are you ready?"

In answer I simply nod, not trusting myself to speak through the lump in my throat, and follow him into the woods where we follow the laid out path into silence. To give Mycroft credit he has done a great job with the decorations. Certaintly the path Lestrade and I are walking along is suitably festive with its garlands of meadow flowers and the strings of multicoloured lights which have been threaded through the branches of the trees. The deeper we head into the wood the more I become aware of the merrily chatting voices of the congregation and the discordent buzz of the band tuning their instruments. Nerves hit me again and my hands shake as I continue to walk forward beside Lestrade. As though sensing how I am feeling he glances over at me and gives me a small smile. I shake my head, why was being like this this was the happiest day of my life. When the clearing comes into sight a tawny owl dives down from a nearby branch, hovers before me in mid-air and dips its head in greeting, its bright yellow eyes gleaming.

"Good you're here, everyone is just finishing getting into position. If you would just wait here a moment." The owl says before angling its brown and black flecked wings and flying back into the clearing. I hear its voice drift back towards us. "Attention ladies and gentlemen, would you please all rise for John Hamish Watson."

"I think thats your cue." Lestrade says, leaning over to mutter in my ear. Briefly he lays a hand on my shoulder and smiles at me. "Good luck."

I quietly thank him and then take a deep breath and step into the clearing, hardly able to believe that the moment was finally upon me. Despite telling myself not to be nervous I have to force myself to walk forward down the aisle between the assembled creatures, trying not to meet anyones eyes. Instead I turn my attention to my surroundings. Despite the elaborateness of Mycroft's plans he has still managed to incorperate some of the simplicity Sherlock and I had originally wanted. At the very centre of the clearing is a raised podium decorated with garlands of golden roses which almost exactly match the colour of Sherlock's wings. Sherlock... The moment my eyes meet his everything else, the clearing and the assembled shape-shifters, fades away into the background until he is the only thing I am able to see. Sherlock's eyes shine with happiness when he sees me walking towards him and I am sure I am probably wearing a similiar expression. He is dressed in an elegant suit covered with golden red feathers which burn with a orange light. I know right then that the sight will stay with me until the day I die. Reaching into the pocket of my trousers I grip the ring I'll soon be slipping onto Sherlock's fingers before stepping up onto the podium beside Sherlock. His smile becomes wider and he reaches forward to stroke my cheek.

"You look rather dashing in a suit John, maybe you should wear one more often." Sherlock says softly so only I am able to hear him.

A shiver runs through me at his touch and I let out a quiet sigh. Before I am able to reply to him though the official overseeing the ceromony, an elderly chinese dragon with irresdescent green scales, clears his throat and asks for everyone to be seated. Then he turns us, smiles and begins. "Ladies, Gentlemen and assorted shape-shifters we are gathered here today to witness the joining of the dragon shape-shifter John Watson to the phoenix shape-shifter Sherlock Holmes."

From behind us within the congregation I hear a loud sniff followed by a quiet, hastily stifled sob. Curious I glance behind me to see Mrs Hudson pressing a tissue to her face in order to hide her tears. I smile to myself before turning back to the official who is now asking if anyone knows a reason why I and Sherlock should not be married. Of course no one speaks up and the official nods towards Sherlock. He takes a deep breath, his eyes fixed on mine, and takes my hands in his.

"I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, William Sherlock Scott Holmes may not be joined in matrimony to John Hamish Watson." Sherlock says, briefly letting go of one of my hands to pull a ring from his pocket. "I give you this ring as a symbol of our marriage and as a token of my love." He continues as he gently slides the ring onto my finger. My heart flutters in my chest. "I call upon these persons here present to witness that, William Sherlock Scott Holmes, do take thee, John Hamish Watson, to be my lawful wedded husband." Sherlock finishes in a voice which is barely above a murmur, his eyes gleaming with love.

Now it is my turn. "I do solemnly declare that I know not of any lawful impediment why I, John Hamish Watson may not be joined in matrimony to William Sherlock Scott Holmes." I pause to take the ring out of my pocket and take a deep breath before I feel able to continue. After all it would embaressing if anyone heard the shake I am desperatly trying to keep out of my voice. "I give you this ring as a symbol of our marriage and as a token of my love. I call upon the persons present to witness that i, John Hamish Watson, do take you, Sherlock Holmes, to be my lawful wedded husband."

Quite a few of the congregation sound as though they are crying now but I don't really pay them any attention. My entire being is fixed on Sherlock who is smiling down at me with an awestruck expression. Evidently I am not the only hardly able to believe that today is actually happening. The official clears his throat and announces grandly,"I now pronounce you partners for life."

Behind us the congregation burst into applause but Sherlock and I hardly notice them. Instead we are gazing into each others eyes, hardly able to believe that after everything we have gone through we finally have one another for the rest of our lives. Sherlock leans down and I rise up on tiptoe to eagerly press my lips to his. I feel his arms move to cradle my head and pull me closer to him, deepening the kiss as he does so. I smile at how right it feels, my body neatly fitting against his. Right now I am the happiest and luckiest shape-shifter alive and I look forward to spending the rest of my life with Sherlock.

The End


End file.
